Roommates
by slytherinrules85
Summary: At the start of seventh year, Head Boy and Girl Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger are assigned quarters together. As the year goes on, they discover an ageold mystery and the War becomes close to home. Now AU
1. The Beginning

10/04/04 

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters or anything affiliated with Warner Bros. Studios.

**A/N:** Hey everyone!!! I'm back! This is my new story, _Roommates_, which is what I've been working on for the past month or so. I'd like to thank my beta, James, who's been really great, and my friend Ellie, as always, for picking up the phone and hearing me say right off the bat, "Ok, I've written more. D'you want to hear it?" Anyway, enough with my babble, please read and review!!!!!

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**Chapter One**

**The Beginning**

As she was hurrying to class, she turned a corner abruptly and ran into someone's large, broad form.

"Watch it," he said, extending a hand to help her up.

She looked up and was about to thank him when she noticed he was a Slytherin. Her eyes sped upwards, and she saw who it was. "What do you want, Zabini?" she asked suspiciously.

He held his hands up. "I don't want anything, Gryffette," he said, a smirk crossing his face.

"Really?" she asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow. "Now, if you would kindly move..."

"I've been wanting to set up a meeting anyway, Granger," he said, flipping his Head Boy badge in her face. She retaliated by showing him her Head Girl badge.

"Really?" Hermione asked again, doubting that was what this was really about. "When?" She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder firmly.

The boy raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you being sarcastic?" he asked, letting out a small laugh. He held up a hand to block out her response. "No, don't answer that. I'm only here as a messenger. Dumbledore wants us in his office in an hour, ok?" With that, he turned around and walked away.

"What the...? Did I do something wrong? Or is something the matter?" Hermione muttered, hoisting her bag more securely on her shoulder. She shook her head and walked towards the Headmaster's office. It would take a while to get there since she was on the opposite end of the castle. She muttered something unkind directed towards the extremely long hallways and many staircases.

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About two minutes before the start of the meeting, she arrived in front of the griffin. Glaring at it, she tapped her wand on its nose three times.

"Warm vanilla sugar," she said. The griffin hopped off its pedestal and she went up the stairs that were behind it. She opened the door to Dumbledore's office and went in.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, chatting with Blaise Zabini. He looked up and smiled at Hermione. "Ah, Ms Granger," he said. "Welcome."

Blaise coughed and in that cough was the phrase, "About time."

Hermione glared at her counter part. "Good afternoon, professor. Is there something wrong?"

"Not at all, Ms Granger. Please take a seat and I will explain everything," Dumbledore said, his eyes...

"Well, Ms Granger, if you would take a seat I will explain," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Thank you. The faculty and I have decided upon much deliberation that the Head Boy and Girl —you two— will be rooming together for the remainder of the year." He coughed, obviously trying not to laugh. "We thought it would be a good example of inter-House unity, and we expect it will catch on among the rest of the school, since they will follow the example of their excellent Head Boy and Girl."

"Lovely," Blaise said, smiling rather lazily. "Fantastic idea, professor. When do we move?"

Hermione sat in shock.

Dumbledore beamed. "I think so, Mr. Zabini. You two will move into your new quarters this afternoon."

"What?" Hermione asked, finally shaken from her speechlessness.

"While I'm sure that this is a shock, it is for the better of the school. We are in dangerous times, and this is a pre-emptive attempt of warding off many things that are evil." He looked over his glasses at Hermione, who gulped and nodded. "That will be all," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure that you two have classes to get to. You're dismissed."

They left, and Hermione stood in the hallway for a moment. "Zabini!" she exclaimed. "This is all your fault!" She advanced on him, poking his chest with her forefinger as she went. "You could've said _something_, you could've said _anything_ else!" She glared at him and shook her head, defeated.

"Granger," he said, amusement plain in his voice. "Really. Like I can hold off the entire faculty of Hogwarts." A smirk-like grin spread over his face. "I can only manage one or two, at best."

She sniffed at him and walked away down the opposite end of the hall, intent on her coming History of Magic class.

"See you in Potions!" he called after her.

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At one o'clock, Hermione, Harry and Ron plodded down the numerous staircases to the dungeons and their Potions class. They and the rest of the Gryffindors filed in, sitting on their side of the classroom as the Slytherins sniffed at them in distaste from where they had been sitting.

Snape swept in and surveyed them with a critical eye. "Welcome," he said menacingly, "to my seventh year N.E.W.T. level potions course. Some of you will not make the grade," a snide smirk crossed his features as his gaze settled on Neville Longbottom. "And some of you will exceed it." His eyes flicked towards Draco Malfoy. "Make no mistake, however, that I will tolerate any mistakes that I treated so kindly over the last six years. This year, that changes. Make any mistake —any at all— and I guarantee you that you will fail. Horribly." His smirk grew. "With that, I will pair you up into partners for your term project. About the project, I will assign you a topic, and you and your partner will write a ten-foot long scroll on the findings you made and your notes on the procedure of making the potion. Was it hard, do you think the procedure should be revised, et cetera. Now, without any interruptions," he looked sharply at Ron, "I shall assign your partners. Weasley, you're with Parkinson, Potter and Nott, Malfoy and Longbottom, Granger and Zabini..."

Hermione's gaze and attention instantly shifted from the professor to Blaise, who was somehow lounging on his stool, gazing mirthfully up at her, smirk playing across his lips. She sighed, and picked up her bag. Walking over to his table, she saw her fellow Gryffindors sullenly make their way to work with the Slytherins. She stopped in front of the table at which Zabini was sitting.

"Well?" he asked, sitting up. "What's keeping you, Granger? Sit down, then."

She sat, but not because he said so; because Professor Snape was walking up the aisle, bearing down on them, a piece of parchment in his hand. He stopped in front of their table and glanced at his parchment. "Ah, Zabini and Granger," he said, lip curling, "you will be researching the Endless Love potions."

"Potions, sir?" Hermione asked, looking slightly confused.

"Yes, you heard me Granger, _potions_," snapped Snape.

"What my partner meant to say, sir," Blaise cut in smoothly, "is, why do we have two? Surely there is a reason, seeing as it's you." He smiled amiably, and Snape bought it.

"You have two, Zabini," he said, resting his elbow on the table, "because there is a male and female version to this potion. Only one will affect men, only one will affect women. This is due the first Potions class of second term. No exceptions." He swept onward, and Blaize turned to Hermione.

Blaise raised his eyebrows smoothly at Hermione. "You see, Granger, why you should let me handle Snape?" he said, smiling at her charmingly.

Hermione didn't even bother to respond as she pulled out her carefully written notes from the books she had read over the summer and looked over each page for a mention of the Endless Love potion. Forty-five minutes passed without her finding anything.

Snape's voice interrupted her concentration as the professor dismissed the class.

"Well, Granger," Blaise said, already gathering his notes and quill from the table, "I've got to go. I'll meet you in the library around five, though. In the Potions section." He got up, smoothly swinging his bag on his shoulder and walked out of the dungeon.

Hermione growled at his quickly disappearing form. "How dare he!" she muttered, walking with Ron and Harry, who were moaning about their partners. "How DARE he!" She stomped her foot and ran all the way to the Prefects bathroom, where she planned to have a relaxing afternoon in the tub, reading. She flicked her wand at it. "Peppermint scrubs." The door opened, and she went inside. As the door shut behind her, she went over to the little panel beside the doorway and pressed a little red button that signified that the bathroom was occupied.

She turned and dumped her bag and clothes on the floor and sank into the shallow end of the sunken bathtub, which was almost full with steaming, cinnamon-smelling water. She picked her wand up and summoned _Hogwarts, A History_, leaned back and started to read her favorite book.

About ten minutes into her revelry, someone started banging on the door. She frowned, frustrated.

"WHAT?" Hermione yelled.

"GET OUT OF THE BATH!" yelled Blaise.

"UGH!" she exclaimed, putting the book down and wrapping herself in a bathrobe. She stalked over to the door and opened it, glaring at Zabini. "What, may I ask, do you want?"

He looked at her, grinning. He, too, was in a bathrobe, with a towel draped over his shoulder. "I want to take a bath," he said simply.

"Hard luck," she snapped, slamming the door shut in his face. She pressed the locking button again and went back to her bath.

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Blaise stood outside of the Prefect's bath stunned. All he had ever heard of Hermione Granger was that she usually was very nice and congenial. Not to mention that she would cave to people when put under pressure. Undoubtedly, this was a rumor put out by Gryffindors who wanted to see Hermione express her rage against someone else, for a change. Preferably a Slytherin.

He shook his head and went back to the Slytherin baths, intent on a bath, even if it wasn't in a secluded place.

Relaxing in the steaming water, he thought about how people had been shocked when he was chosen for Head Boy over Potter, Weasley and Malfoy. He didn't know why Dumbledore chose him, but he wasn't about to ask. The old man frequently had some odd reason that usually could be explained, after much deliberation and experience. He smirked when he remembered the expression on Malfoy's face when he had found out who was Head Boy. After all, Blaise hadn't been a Prefect. Why did Dumbledore choose _him_? Malfoy had been irate ever since the beginning of the school year, which had just started. Blaise doubted he would get over the anger soon. Until then, he'd stay out of Malfoy's way.

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When Hermione exited the bathroom, she glanced at her watch. It read 4:45. She gulped. Her meeting with Zabini was in fifteen minutes. She would have to run.

She ran all the way to the library, having to dodge Filch and jump over a five-foot gap of moving staircase to make it. Skidding into the library, she smiled at Madame Pince, who nodded at her and walked calmly into the Potions section. Zabini was sitting on an armchair at the very back, feet crossed on top of the table.

"Granger," he said, taking his eyes off his watch, "you are just in time." He motioned towards another armchair. "Sit." She sat. "Now, since we'll be living together from now on," he started, "I though we might as well put some ground rules down."

"Wonderful idea," Hermione said, placing her bag on the table. "But before we do, Zabini, where are the new quarters?"

"Ah." Zabini held up a finger. "The Headmaster said he'd come find us at around seven to show us the new quarters. He also said that all of our things would be there when we arrived."

"Okay."

"Anyway, on with the rules. Number one, no sleepovers with members of the same or opposite sex. This applies to both of us, not just you." Hermione opened her mouth, maybe to protest, but Blaise shook his head, a teasing smiled spreading across his face. "I was just joking Granger."

"Fine, Zabini," Hermione said shortly. "No 'objectionable' friends. That means Malfoy."

"And Potter and Weasley," pointed out Blaise. "Even though I, personally, have never done anything to them, they would make my life a living hell if they were in our quarters all the time simply because I happen to be a Slytherin."

"True," Hermione said, nodding.

They sat for two more hours before finally agreeing on ten rules that they could both follow. By the time they had finished and were going to do homework on their Potions project, Professor Dumbledore had arrived and was standing looking at them.

"Mr. Zabini, Ms Granger, if you would be so kind as to come with me?" Dumbledore asked, motioning to them. They got up and walked for about a quarter mile through twisting corridors and several staircases before they arrived in front of a painting of the four Founders, who were bickering with each other about the tapestries. "GODRIC, SALAZAR, ROWENA, AND HELGA!" yelled Dumbledore, voice magically enhanced. They turned.

"What is it, Albus?" Helga asked, a dimple appearing in her sun burnt skin.

"I have the Head Boy and Girl here to move into these chambers," Dumbledore said.

"You can't do that!" Salazar protested. "These were _our_ private chambers! We don't want some silly students in them!"

"Yeah," Godric said sarcastically, "but you weren't allowed to leave a huge, deadly, buggering _mean_ snake in the basement, were you?" Salazar flushed and mumbled something, turning back to the parchment in front of him. Godric turned back to Dumbledore. "Of course it's all right, Albus. In fact, I think it'll be a learning experience for them." He looked at Hermione and Blaise. "Have fun. But remember, all of the stuff in there is ours, so try not to break it. Also, we've left a number of personal things in there that you might find interesting." He winked, and looked at Dumbledore again. "They won't need a password," Godric said, "I'll just let them in."

Dumbledore smiled as the painting swung open and they went through it.

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**A/N:** Well, that's the first chapter. I'll update sometime next week if I see that people like it. I really hope you do like it!!! Please, please, please review!!!!


	2. Their Rooms

10/06/04

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

**A/N:** Hey! Since there's been such a positive response to this fic, I thought I'd update sooner! Thanks to my beta, James, and my friends Ellie and Seth. Please read on!!!

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Two

When the painting swung shut behind them, Dumbledore coughed discreetly. "Ahem. I'm afraid that there is still a little dust," he apologized. "After all, the original occupants haven't been here for quite some time. But the House-Elves have promised to have it clean by tomorrow morning. Unless you two would rather do it yourself." Hermione and Blaise quickly shook their heads. "All right then. Well," Dumbledore motioned to a door with a Gryffindor banner hanging on it, "that will be your room, Ms. Granger. And that one," he motioned to a Slytherin clad door, "is your room, Mr. Zabini. The rooms of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are open for inspection, should the need arise in you.

"Also, there are several other rooms besides the bedrooms and this common room. Somewhere around here there is a garden, a Potions lab, a library, and, if I'm not mistaken," his eyes twinkled, "a combination broomstick maintenance and old records room that Godric used and several others that I am not aware of, I'm sure. Now, please go into your rooms and make sure everything is put away properly. The House-Elves were able to clean the rooms this morning, but then they had to prepare dinner and clean the dormitories. They promised to get to everything else as soon as possible. Dobby, the Head House-Elf, has promised to supervise the cleaning of these rooms himself. I must say farewell now, and that I hope you enjoy your new rooms." He turned before leaving. "Also, there is a meeting room on your immediate left as you go down that hallway. Adieu!" And, with that, he left Hermione and Blaise standing in the Founders' chambers, amazed at what was around them.

They looked around at the walls and saw the tapestries of the Founder's achievements. One of them depicted the building of Hogwarts, how they had levitated giant block of stone after giant block of stone into the pattern that they had chosen. The room had candle chandeliers and skylights; the chandeliers were only lit at night, and during the day, the skylights were enough. There were several doors and a few branching hallways, but Blaise and Hermione stayed in the main room to look around.

"This," Blaise said, "is bloody brilliant."

"No," Hermione said, "it's sodding brilliant."

"Very true," Blaise agreed. "There's a garden!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I love to garden! And a broomstick maintenance room! And that library and those old records for you! This is going to be _perfect_!"

"YES!" Hermione yelled, jumping up and down like a little kid on the red-and-gold lion carpet. She stopped suddenly and turned to Blaise.

"I have to go see my room!" they said simultaneously. They both ran to the doorways to their respective rooms and opened the doors, excited to see what was inside.

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Hermione opened her door carefully. Inside this decades-undisturbed room were Godric Gryffindor's personal belongings.

The room, unsurprisingly, was a deep scarlet color. There was a huge mahogany sleigh four-poster to her right, and matching nightstand, dresser and armoires. She ran her fingers over the dresser.

"It's not really that impressive, is it?" said a deep voice. She jumped and swirled around. There was a portrait of the Founders over a desk on the far side of the room. "Hello," Godric said cheerily, waving.

"Godric!" the picture Rowena said, smacking his shoulder. "For heaven's sake! You scared the poor girl out of a years' growth!" Godric grinned sheepishly at Hermione.

"Really, Rowena," Salazar said superiorly, "how can you expect anything from Godric, especially maturity?"

Rowena gave him a snide look. "The pot calling the kettle black," she said, arching her eyebrows at Slytherin. She turned from a chastened Salazar and looked back at Hermione. "So, my dear, you're the new occupant. I'm glad that they reinstated the policy."

"Policy?" Hermione asked. "What policy?"

"Oh, you didn't know, dear?" Rowena said. She frowned and turned to her friends. "We really must speak to Albus about the briefing of Prefects and Heads, all right?" Turning back to Hermione, she smiled. "Well, there used to be a practice of having the Heads stay here. Some idiot named Armando Dippet cancelled it. Thank God for Albus, though. He may have taken a while to reinstate the policy, but everything he does has a reason."

"Can't you say anymore?" Hermione asked.

Helga smiled rather condescendingly. "I'm afraid we can't, my dear. Rules, you know. If Albus put you here, it's for a reason that you will have to figure out on your own."

"Humph," Hermione said. Suddenly, she smiled. Walking over to her trunk, she fished elbow-deep around in it for a few minutes before muttering, "Aha!" and walking over to the portrait. In her hands she was holding a black blanket, which she tucked all the way around the frame so that they couldn't see her.

"That's not fair!" Godric yelled, voice slightly muffled.

"Don't make me put a silencing spell on you!" Hermione threatened. There was muffled grumbling from behind the blanket, but otherwise there was silence.

She looked at the desk. It was a magnificent roller-top desk, with Gryffindor's crest carved everywhere. She tried to open it with every spell she knew, but none worked.

"Godric," she said, lifting the curtain, "how do I open your desk?"

"You can't," he said smugly, "because I am not going to tell you."

"And why not?" she snapped, losing her worn-out patience.

"Because," he said, his voice long-suffering, "you didn't say 'please'."

Hermione glared at him for a few minutes. "Please," she said. "It would be very nice of you."

"That's better," Godric said smugly. "Now, to open my desk, you have to use a very complex unlocking charm that you only learn in University level Charms. Luckily, I'm smart to have picked something that those nosy students here don't learn. The charm is this _Facere cinnus, apertus!_"

"Very clever," Hermione said dryly, replacing the blanket. "Thanks." She glanced at the desk, went over to her bag and got some parchment, a quill, and some ink out. She wrote the spell down for further reference, possibly for a test, and decided to take a nap.

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Meanwhile, Blaise was enjoying the dungeon-esque paradise that was Slytherin's room. He sat on the --interestingly enough-- black-satin sheet-covered bed. The duvet was emerald green velvet with a down comforter inside.

There were Potions books neatly organized on the shelves, and Blaise walked over and looked at them closely. He fingered a leather-bound book that read _Thirteen Extremely Tricky Potions For The Inquisitive Mind, _by Salazar Slytherin. This book had almost completely disappeared; there were only five known copies of it in England, and two in Scotland. He grinned. Now he had possession of one. There was a door to Slytherin's Potions lab, but Blaise thought he'd check out the communal bathroom that the Founders had shared.

He left his room and walked over to the door that had a sign that read 'Bathroom' on it, and opened it.

The bathroom was about twice the size of the Prefect's bathroom, with a large silver bathtub on the right side of the door that was, again, half as big as the one in the Prefect's bathroom. Along one end of the room there were four showers, each in a different set of House colors. Another remarkable thing about the bathroom was the four tapestries that hung on its four walls. The room was square, and on each wall was a huge House tapestry. The wall with the door in it was Hufflepuff. Behind the tub was Ravenclaw. The wall opposite to the doorway was Gryffindor, and the wall behind the showers was Slytherin.

"Whoa..." Blaise said, standing in the center of the room, looking at everything around him.

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The next day, Hermione and Blaise set out for the Great Hall earlier than they would when they were living in the House, as they weren't sure where they were.

They passed a window soon after leaving their quarters and Hermione saw the greenhouses below them.

"Zabini, look!" she said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him over to the window. "We're just around the Castle from the greenhouses! The garden that is part of the rooms must be that garden that nobody can get to because of that spell!"

"I think you're right, Granger," Blaise said, tugging his sleeve out of her hand. "If you are, we're only about ten minutes away from the Great Hall."

"How would you know that?" Hermione asked.

"Because I had Herbology right after breakfast a few years ago. I don't remember when, exactly, but it might've been fourth or fifth."

"Oh." Hermione nodded. "Well, let's go and get there early, and avoid the rush of the oncoming hordes." She struggled to keep a straight face.

Blaise grinned. "Nice one. Didn't know you had it in you."

"Shut up," she said, laughing. For a moment, they forgot their Houses, and were simply standing laughing together.

Blaise stopped first and coughed. "D'you think we should go ahead and go down?" he asked, slightly nervous.

"Sure," Hermione said, smiling at him.

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They arrived at the Great Hall about ten minutes before everyone else and sat at the Hufflepuff table, which was the middle left table, talking.

The doors swung open, and Hermione saw Harry and Ron come through, shocked expressions on their faces as they saw whom Hermione was talking to.

"Bugger off, Zabini," Ron said, glaring at Blaise.

"Ron," Hermione started, "lay off. He's Head Boy, and I've got to work with him." Ron made a futile protest about Blaise being a Slytherin before Hermione glared at him and led him over to the Gryffindor table, looking apologetically at Blaise.

Instead of nodding at her, Blaise sneered and turned away abruptly. She saw him walk over to Malfoy and shake his hand, muttering something and pulling out a few Galleons, handing them to Malfoy. Hermione shook with rage. He had bet on her! Bastard.

She turned away and focused on what Ron was saying --which was something about the Quidditch line-up-- to Harry, who was patiently listening before he said "No."

McGonagall, not surprisingly, had named Harry Quidditch Captain. Ron had taken up the strategy, but Hermione could see Harry was going to end up vetoing some of his ideas. Even she could see they were stupid.

"Honestly, Ron," she said, putting some toast on her plate, "Harry doesn't have to do that Wonky Feint at every single game. Besides, seeing as how the Snitch isn't as controllable as, say, the Quaffle or the Bludgers, he couldn't even if he wanted to."

"_Wronski_," Ron muttered, eating a roll, "for _once_ can you say it right?" He looked up and caught Hermione's eye and gulped.

"'Mione," Harry asked, sounding rather annoyed at Ron's harping, "why did Dumbledore put you and Zabini in separate chambers? From everyone else, I mean."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Harry," she said, now buttering her toast. "Why don't you ask him?"

After her breakfast of toast and some fruit, Hermione jumped up to make it to her first class.

Once in the hallway, she felt someone grab her elbow. About to smack whomever it was, she was whirled around to face Blaise Zabini.

"I'll meet you in the library for work on the Potions assignment tonight at seven," he said simply.

"Why not in the chambers?" she asked, voice rather nasty.

"Because." He turned and walked away.

"Blast him," she muttered, dashing to her Ancient Runes class, forgetting he was in it, that he conveniently knew a shortcut and that he sat in the chair right behind her.

Hermione arrived, and the professor looked up and brushed a wisp of her white-streaked blonde hair out of her eyes. "Ah, Ms. Granger. Do take a seat." She turned back to the board, humming something to herself, not minding the slightly snickering students behind her.

Hermione blushed, because she knew that this particular professor was not as out-there as she looked. She was a recent member of the Order, and her name was Myrtle Discon. A plain name, to be sure, but a rather powerful witch behind it.

"Late, are we?" asked the snide voice of Blaise Zabini behind her.

Hermione had had enough of his prattish behaviour. "Shove it, Zabini," she hissed, opening her textbook. She heard a slight intake of breath behind her and smiled smugly. However, she became smug too soon. An instant after the gasp, a pair of long legs moved to stretch themselves out underneath her chair. His toes pushed her feet forward.

"...And so, when you put the Celtic rune and the rune from the Viking slab together-- Yes, Ms. Granger?" Professor Discon said, pushing her spectacles up farther on the bridge of her nose.

"Excuse me, professor, but could I please change seats?" Hermione asked.

"Why?" the professor asked, slightly clueless.

"Because," Hermione said, stomping on Blaise's foot simply to hear the grunt of pain that issued from his mouth, "Zabini is stretching his legs out underneath my chair."

"Oh. Well, Mr. Zabini, don't do that, or I'm afraid I'll have to remove House points," Myrtle said sternly. "Back to runes. When you put those two runes together, and speak their Latin names, you get the name of an ingredient to the Endless Love potion..."

Hermione felt Blaise's hand on the back of her chair, so she quickly picked up her quill and poked his hand hard, but not enough to make more than a large ink spot.

Blaise pulled his hand back and blew on it. Pulling out his wand, he muttered a charm that would make it look like a long gash. "Bloody hell!" Blaise exclaimed, jumping up, waving his hand about.

"Mr. Zabini!" Myrtle said, frowning. "Please! This is a classroom, not a saloon, or a bar! Five points from Slytherin!"

"Professor, look at my hand!" Blaise said, walking over and showing her his hand.

She lifted her glasses up to have a closer look. "Oh, dear. That looks awful. You should go to the hospital wing."

"Professor," Blaise said, a slight twinge of malice glinting in his eyes, "Hermione Granger stabbed me with her letter-opener!"

"Ms. Granger!" Professor Discon said, scolding Hermione sternly. "Don't do that again in my classroom!"

Blaise's mouth dropped open. "But, professor, why doesn't she get detention or something?"

"Because, Mr. Zabini," Myrtle said, turning back to the chalkboard, "Ms. Granger is a first-time offender. She doesn't deserve detention, and I really don't have time to assign her one. I'll just give her more homework, if that makes you happy. And five points from Gryffindor. Now, everyone, if we can _please_ get back to runes and leave stabbing and the like alone, you might learn something today."

Blaise smiled smugly at Hermione, who glared at him, as he left to go to the hospital wing, cupping his hand.

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Blaise was sitting on a bed, watching ruefully as Madame Pomfrey wrapped his hand in bandages.

"Really," she scolded, "how do you get into these accidents these days? Not something sensible, like stepping onto that one stair that sticks, trying to pull your foot off, and then having it let you go, and you fall down the stairs. No, you have to fight with someone and get stabbed with a letter-opener." She tsk-tsked at Blaise for a moment, and then walked away to find a salve for him to rub on his hand for the next few days.

Hermione entered the Infirmary quietly and passed the nurse, walking over to Blaise's bed where he was glaring at his hand. "It's not that bad, is it?" she asked, concerned.

"No," he said, "she just-- Oh, it's you. Go away. I don't want to talk to you."

"Well," she retorted, "you'll have to. I'm to escort you to Herbology, as Professor Discon has asked me to do, then run back inside and three floors and two moving staircases away to my Arithmancy class."

"Really?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, as Madam Pomfrey came back to instruct Blaise on what to do. Hermione paused while Pomfrey scolded and then dismissed Blaise. "So let's get going."

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**A/N:** Well, you made it to the end of the chapter! Yay!

I'd also, for the record, like to thank Abe Linclon, who's an old bud, for reviewing.

Now, since it's late, and I'm tired, I'm stopping here. Please review!!!!


	3. Research

10/09/04

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. I would, however, LOVE to own a) all the Weasleys boys, except Ron and Percy, b) Oliver Wood, and c) Sirius Black. But, ::sighs:: I don't.

**A/N:** Well, since I'm a lovely and wonderful person, I'm going to update three though I don't have five back. Thanks to my beta and my friend Ellie!

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Three 

That evening, Hermione left Gryffindor tower, where she had been hanging out with Harry and Ron, to go to the library for her study session with Blaise.

She managed to get there five minutes early, so she pulled the signature of Professor McGonagall out of her bag and went over to the checkout desk.

"Madam Pince?" she asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" Pince said, a tight smile appearing on her lips. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if I could get _Moste Potente Potions_," Hermione said, handing the librarian the parchment holding her permission.

"Ms. Granger," Madam Pince said, handing the parchment back to Hermione, "when you are Head Girl, you don't need permission to get a book from the Restricted Section. Go ahead and get what you need, but don't remove anything from the library."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled at the woman and walked back to the table she and Blaise had sat at the night before, put her bag on a chair, and went into the Restricted Section to find the text she was looking for.

Blaise arrived ten minutes late to find a hastily scribbled note from Hermione telling him where she was and that she'd be back "soon."

He walked over to the librarian's desk. "Madam Pince? How long ago did Granger go into the Restricted Section?"

Madam Pince checked her watch. "About five minutes ago."

"Thanks," he replied, walking back to the table.

Madam Pince looked up from her book. "You're welcome," she said, surprised that he thanked her.

He nodded and went back to his chair to look for some Potions texts there.

£££££

Hermione came back when Blaise had been sitting at the table for about half an hour. She smiled, as his head was tipped back, mouth open, breathing audibly.

In her arms, she held several large Potions texts. She dropped them on the table.

"No more tuna fish!" Blaise said, jumping.

"Tuna fish?" Hermione asked, amused. "Get reading, Zabini." She handed him a book and he glared at her.

"How'd you get into the Restricted Section?" he asked, disgruntled.

"Madame Pince let me," she said, flipping through a Love Potions text. "Aha!"

"What?"

She pointed to a section in the page. "Here's something on the Endless Love potion," she said. "The Endless Love potion requires immensely delicate treatment when preparing or it will become ineffective. When preparing, the maker must only use the exact ingredients listed, or the effects will be drastic. It is an extremely difficult and curmudgeonly potion that should only be attempted by the most skilled of youngsters, as it can only be made by someone under the age of twenty-five."

Blaise looked at Hermione, completely disgusted. "Now I see why Snape gave us this potion," he said. Hermione glanced at him. "'Cause we're the most talented potion students, and he's too old."

"But why would Snape want two vials of the Endless Love potion?" Hermione asked Blaise.

"'Ours is not to reason why; ours is but to do and die'," Blaise quoted.

"The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson," Hermione responded, hiding a smile.

"Yup," Blaise said, digging back into a book.

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They had finished studying, and had written five pages of notes each before they left, separately, to spend time with their friends.

Blaise headed off to the Slytherin common room. He stood in front of the stone wall and glared at it for a moment before speaking the password, "Mahogany slicer," and stepping through the doorway, brushing a curl off his forehead.

"So, Draco," Blaise said, flopping down on a leather-covered couch near his friend, "I hear you have Longbottom for your partner."

Draco threw him an icy glare to rival one of Snape's. "Shut it, Blaise. Or," he said, inspiration coming to him, "you could fill it with something else."

"'S your turn to shut it, Draco," Blaise replied amiably. "At least my partner doesn't blow things up all the live-long day."

"Ha-bloody-ha," Draco muttered, going into a sulk and slouching in his couch.

"Have you heard from Gin lately?" Blaise asked, peering at his fingernails.

Draco perked up visibly. "I got an owl from her yesterday. We're going to get together during the next Hogsmeade weekend."

"Ah," Blaise said. "So, have you figured out what to tell the potential in-laws?"

Draco snorted. "Please. Gin and I have been discussing elopement. Father, of course, will be exceedingly angry. Thankfully, he's in prison." Lucius Malfoy had been arrested after escaping Azkaban and was now in a top-security prison that no one knew the location of. Draco wrote, and received, occasional letters to his imprisoned father. "Mother doesn't care, as long as I don't interrupt her Grand Tour of Europe." He paused, musing. "I think she's in Milan right now."

"Well," Blaise said, "my parents told me that I could invite you to stay with us this summer, since your mum won't be home." Blaise's family, though Slytherins, were consumed by research and ancient texts. They had neither the time nor the interest in Death Eater tendencies. Blaise flicked a glance at Draco.

Draco looked irritably at him. "Stupid. How can you think that I'm involved with that lot anymore?" He rolled his eyes. "Not even you should be that idiotic." Draco had withdrawn his interest in the Death Eaters after his Aunt Lestrange had tried to kill him when she discovered his relationship with Ginny Weasley.

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Hermione tumbled through the portrait hole and onto a cushion that someone had most intelligently put underneath the accident-prone spot. She brushed her shirt off and straightened her skirt.

Walking over to the couch in front of the fire, she sat in between Harry and Ron and sighed.

"So, Hermione," Ron said, "where were you? I thought that you were going to help us with our paper."

Hermione sniffed. "Ron, I have my own homework, you know." Ron opened his mouth. "No, let me go on. I can't always help you with your homework. You have to learn to help yourself."

Ron grumbled something, but didn't repeat it when looked at by Hermione.

They settled into a discussion of the Quidditch lineups for that season.

"...and Malfoy's added Zabini to the Slytherin team as a Chaser," Harry said, frowning at the paper in which he had written down all the lineups for the other teams. "I'm going to move Ginny to point Chaser and--"

"Wait a second," Hermione interrupted. "Blaise is the new Chaser for Slytherin?"

"Yeah," Harry said, flipping through a sheaf of notes. "Apparently he plays with a team near his Manor during the summer." He frowned. "He's supposed to be really good. I'm going to have to train the Chasers really well to be able to get by him."

"How good?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry held up a page of —to Hermione— meaningless diagrams and Ron groaned when he scanned it. "Crap."

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Hermione went into the living room and dumped her bag onto a chair before walking into her room.

"Rough night?" called a muffled voice. Hermione glanced at the blanket that covered the portrait. She uncovered it to see Godric Gryffindor smiling cheerfully at her. "What's the matter, pet, something shoved up your—Mph!"

Rowena had pushed a handkerchief into his mouth. "Sorry about him," she apologized to Hermione. "He gets a bit, well, odd is the only word I can think of."

"It's ok," Hermione said, glaring at her House Founder. "Yeah, my day was so-so." Godric brightened, hoping for some dirt on other people—preferably from Slytherin. "But no, I'm not going to tell you." She covered the portrait back up. "I'm going to bed. Night."

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The next day Hermione left their chambers before Blaise woke so she didn't have to face him.

She entered the Great Hall to find the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team at the Gryffindor table arguing about the lineup.

"I still say that Dean should be the point Chaser," Ginny argued, glaring at Harry.

His facial expression revealed none of his exasperation. "No, Ginny. For the _thousandth_ time, no. And I've asked Dean, and he said no," Harry said, raking a hand through his hair. "Hermione. Any input?"

"Slytherins," Hermione started, "are evil tweasels."

"Well, we know that," Ron said, smirking. "Anything new?"

"And Godric Gryffindor is a pervert."

"Really?" Ginny asked. "How so?"

Hermione glared at the porridge in front of her. "I'll introduce you some time, Gin, and you will see."

"Okay," Ginny said, going back to arguing with Harry.

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"Now if you look at this one chart," Professor Vector said, frowning at a set of numbers, "then you'll see that Hirtan's theory is debunked..."

"So," Blaise said to Hermione in a low tone. Once again he had managed to wrangle a seat near her. Today he was sitting next to her. She was beginning to suspect him of bribing her classmates. "Ready for another session of horror stories of people afflicted by their rash decision to take the Endless Love potion?"

"No," she said, twirling a curl around her finger, writing notes with her other hand, "I'm rather busy this afternoon."

"With what?" Blaise asked, flicking her with a spot of ink.

"Stop that. I'm organizing a sleepover for all the girls in sixth and seventh year. We're going to have 'quality girl time', according to my cohort, Lavender Brown." Hermione flicked some ink back at him.

"You stop first." A spot landed on her collar.

"Stop," she warned, twiddling her quill threateningly, "or we'll have another 'incident' with my extremely sharp quill."

He glanced at the quill warily. "This evening, then?"

"Fine. But I'm only available for a few hours. Seven till nine."

"Why only that amount of time?" he asked, curious.

"I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, and I'm trying to get into bed by nine-thirty," she said. "Don't laugh."

Blaise looked at her surprised. "Why would I? It's a perfectly reasonable thing to want, since sleep is something all of us sleep-deprived teenagers could use."

Hermione's eyebrow's rose at this, but she didn't comment. She just turned back to the professor's lecture.

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**A/N:** What are you reading this for? Review!!!!

-Manion


	4. In Which There is a lot of Paper

**10/20/04**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. Or anything affiliated or connected... The list goes on. :D Don't sue, please!

**A/N:** Well, this is chapter four, I hope you like it!

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Four

That Saturday Hermione, Harry and Ron waited outside for the thestral-drawn carriages to appear so they could make their way to Hogsmeade.

"So, I expect you two will be frittering away your time in the Quidditch store?" Hermione asked, joking.

"It's not 'frittering', Hermione," Ron started.

"Oh, Ron, I'm just teasing," she replied as the carriages rolled to a stop in front of them. She climbed into one. "Don't take everything about Quidditch the wrong way."

"Merph," he said, jumping into the carriage and landing on the seat across from Hermione's. "I don't see why you joke about it. I certainly don't joke about bo— Oh, sorry." He gave her an apologetic smile and they launched into a discussion of what they were going to do in Hogsmeade that day.

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"So, Hermione," a voice from behind her left shoulder said in an amiable tone, "looking in the Potions section? How predictable."

"What do you want, Zabini?" Hermione asked, leafing through _Difficult Potions, Third Edition_.

"I was wondering what was up," he replied, leaning against the bookshelf next to her. "Can't I be a friendly co-Head?"

She looked at him, slightly amused. "Maybe. But you've got to tell me why you were betting on me with Malfoy first."

"Oh. That." He seemed unconcerned.

Hermione snapped the book shut, irritated. "Yes, _that_," she said. "Now kindly tell me what it was about."

"You wouldn't like it if I told you," he said, mouth twitching.

"I'm sure," she muttered. "But tell me anyway."

"Hmm... I don't think I will. Thanks, though." He laughed at her expression. "Really, Gryffette, don't argue with people who are protecting you from a greater evil."

"Who would those 'protectors' be, then?" Hermione asked.

Blaise laughed. "Why, Draco and me, of course!" he said, as if that were perfectly normal. "We are watching all of you." He tweaked her nose. "Even the nosy ones, such as yourself, Gryffette."

Hermione rubbed her nose as he picked up a book from the shelf. "Which one is that?" she asked.

He leafed through about a hundred pages. "_Potions Masters and the Women Who Love Them, _by Severus Snape," he read from the cover. "My own noble Head of House." He put the book back on the shelf and picked up another one. "And this one's _Thirty of the Most Difficult Love Potions_, by Flir T. Wifmi."

"'Flir T. Wifmi'?" Hermione asked, laughing.

Blaise scrutinized the cover of the book. "That's what it says. Interesting." He looked at the table of contents. "It's got Endless Love, too. Three chapters devoted to the bugger."

"Don't swear," Hermione said offhand, reading her book.

"Humph. I'll do what I want, Granger. But this looks pretty good. Here, give me yours." She handed the book she was reading over to him.

"Why?" she asked, puzzled.

"I'm going to buy both of them, of course," Blaise said, fishing out his moneybag.

"Don't be silly. I'll buy my own," Hermione said, reaching for the second book in his hands.

"No," he said. "I've got the money for it, and you need to save yours." With that, he evaded her book-grabbing hands and went to buy the books.

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Hermione opened the door to The Three Broomsticks, about to go in to wait for Harry and Ron, when a hand grabbed her elbow. She looked back to see Blaise standing behind her and holding her tightly.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Let me go. I'm going to wait for Harry and Ron. Let me go," she replied, trying to tug her arm from his grasp.

"There's a reason I'm the new point Chaser for Slytherin," he said, easily holding onto her, "and it has something to do with my ability to grip things very well." She frowned at him. "Now, now, don't be smushing up those features of yours. Don't want to get premature wrinkles, do we?" He laughed at her shocked expression. "Just joking. Come to Honeyduke's with me," he said, pulling her towards the candy store.

"Fine," she grumbled. "But let me go when we get there."

"Sure."

They walked towards the candy store, recipients of a few strange glances. After all, it was a Slytherin leading a Gryffindor by the arm to who-knows-where, looking rather determined.

"People are staring," she hissed to Blaise.

He looked back at her, a cheerful expression on his face. "I know. Isn't it wild?"

She sighed and let him hold the door to Honeyduke's open for her. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said. He steered her shoulder over to the chocolate. "Now, I'm thinking of getting my sister some chocolate, since she has never had Honeyduke's chocolate."

"What?" Hermione asked, surprised. "How old is she?"

"Oh, she's fifteen."

"But she should be able to visit Hogsmeade, then."

"No, she goes to Beauxbaton," Blaise replied. "What do you think of the dark chocolate? Think she'd like that?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, picking out a huge slab. "Go for it." He laughed, and walked over to buy the chocolate.

When he came back, she had a question for him. "Why didn't you want me to go into The Three Broomsticks?" she asked, tugging a loose curl.

He looked at her, frowning for a moment before answering. "I can't tell you who, but there were two people in there who don't want anyone knowing that they're dating, and I've sworn to help keep the more... inquisitive of people away from their date sites."

"Really?" Hermione said, buttoning up her coat. "Fascinating. Who?"

"Now, Gryffette," he said, handing her a chocolate bar, "that would be telling." He smiled at her. "By the way, it's all right to go back to the pub. Their date's over." He nodded at her, and left to hike back to Hogwarts.

Hermione shook her head at his figure and went back to the pub to wait for Harry and Ron. She slipped the candy bar into her purse, smiling slightly.

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He was watching her. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head. Turning slightly, and holding up a mirror, she glanced behind her.

He was sitting halfway across the library with Malfoy, who was chatting at him, and his eyes met hers in the mirror, with an amused expression clear in them. She turned red and quickly turned away to get back to studying the book in front of her.

"_The Endless Love potion should never be drunk by anyone who is careless, for the next person to drink the counter-potion will instantly become their life partner, no matter the subject. _

_Often the makers of the potion will test it and, as a result, fall into an endless love. The only counter for this potion is for one of the drinkers to die. Studies find that the remaining potion-drinker remains loving their counter part for several months, and, in some cases, years. But eventually the potion will work its way out of their system without the person who has ingested the counter-potion to keep the reaction of the potions whole. _

_Many people have drunk this potion and few ever are dissatisfied with the results. In a few cases, the potion has been administrated to the wrong person. A representative example would be the case of Tristan and Isolde, or the time when a maid accidentally put the female version of the potion into the glass of Veronica Malfoy, and so Lady Malfoy ended up wrecking many alliances by running away with Craig Weasley, a poor potato farmer. The result of mis-application can be a generations-long family feud." _

"Finding it interesting?" a voice hissed into her ear.

Hermione jumped. She could feel Blaise's head hovering inches away from hers. She turned abruptly, and almost kissed him.

"Really, Gryffette," he said, sitting in the chair next to her, thoroughly enjoying the blush that was spreading across her face, "if you're that desperate for a boyfriend you could've told me in the chambers." He grinned. "Much better and easier access to a lot of things."

"Oh, shut up, Zabini," she said crossly. "You caught me off guard and you know it."

He laughed. "I do. But it is extremely enjoyable to see you get flustered." His eyes moved to someone behind her. She turned to see Malfoy standing there, looking at Blaise.

"Coming or not, Blaise?" Malfoy asked, ignoring Hermione.

"I've got work to do, Draco," Blaise replied, lounging back in his seat. "Try to keep yourself occupied."

Draco's glance flicked to somewhere else in the Library. "I will," he said, grinning. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Right." Blaise turned back to a shocked Hermione. "What?"

"I'm stunned," she said. "Malfoy an actually behaving like a human being?"

"It's all an act," Blaise assured her, a twinkle in his eyes. "Be certain." He leaned over and fished something out of his bag. "Here." He handed her _Difficult Potions, Third Edition_. "I thought you might want to read it."

"Thanks," Hermione said. He moved to leave. "Where're you going?"

He sat back down. "Nowhere, if you want me to stay," he responded.

"Well, erm, if you want to, um, work on the project that'd, um, be okay," she said, trying not to blush.

He peered at her. "All right." Pulling _Thirty of the Most Difficult Love _out, he started to read.

"_One of the most difficult love potions ever created would have to be the Endless Love potion. Created by Margaret Gremlins in 1236 as a way to make her daughter fall in love with her fiancé, it worked admirably. The daughter married Bilius Weasley and had thirteen children."_

"I think," Blaise said, snapping the book shut, "that we've found almost every bloody thing mentioned about this sodding potion that is written."

"Language, Zabini," Hermione reminded him. She pointed to the first-years. "There are young ears listening."

"Huh. First-years swear like sailors, Granger," Blaise said, glancing at the eleven-year-olds who were sitting a few feet away. "Daft little buggers. If you get in the habit at school, then you'll slip when you're home, and then your ass will burn."

Hermione turned to glare at him. "Zabini, I don't ask much about people's grammatical habits, but I maintain that they don't swear in my presence. So," she pulled her wand out, "stop, or I'll put a spell on you."

Blaise barely batted an eyelash. "Really, Gryffette," he drawled, "do you think I'd be a Slytherin without personal warding spells?" He lifted his right hand to reveal a claddagh ring on his ring finger. "Charming, isn't it? My mother made it for me when I came here. It's incredibly useful against all the minor spells, charms, and hexes." He grinned. "It's always useful when Draco gets into one of his sulks, which is when he and that girl of his 'fall out' for a bit." Blaise snorted.

"Zabini," Hermione said sternly, "falling out is a serious matter, not one to be mocked."

Blaise laughed. "Gryff," he replied, twirling his quill through his fingers, "Draco and that girl fall out more times than Hagrid has mishaps in Care of Magical Creatures. Then the miss each other, snog, and get back together. It's a circle of the Slytherin life: Love, mess up, beg for forgiveness, be accepted, screw it up again. He and that girl are the epitome of that circle."

"Who's Malfoy dating?" Hermione asked absently, tucking her wand into her sleeve.

Blaise grinned even wider. "Sorry, Gryff, but you're not going to choke that out of me. You want to know, you go ask him. I doubt he wants to be interrupted right now, though. He and the girl are having a 'study session'." Hermione rolled her eyes most expressively. Blaise patted her shoulder. "Cheer up, Gryff," he remarked cheerfully, "mayhap you'll find out before the year's out. If you can keep a secret, that is." He picked up his bag and book and left the library and a stunned Hermione behind him.

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The next day Hermione was sitting on a red-and-gold couch with a Gryffindor banner blanket over her legs, reading a Muggle book, _Pride and Prejudice_.

"What's that?" Blaise asked, plucking the book out of her hands. "Oh, a Muggle book." He made as if to drop it, but instead put it back into her hands nicely.

"Muggle books aren't that bad," Hermione pointed out. "Some have been classics throughout time, even."

"While this is true," Blaise said, nodding at her, "I remain incredibly not interested. I'll be in the garden."

Hermione mumbled something incoherent and not at all nice about Blaise and his head popped out from the corner. "Language, Gryff," he said, laughing and going out into the garden.

She glared at nothing in particular and went into her room. Walking over to the desk, she uncovered the portrait and pulled her wand out.

"Remember," Godric said from above her, "swish and flick!"

She scoffed, and pointed her wand at the roller-top desk's lock. "_Facere cinnus, apertus!_" she said, swishing and flicking her wand. A grinding noise issued from the lock and the top rolled back to reveal a most unorganized desk covered in parchment, scraps of paper, ink spots, and a gold-tipped eagle-feather quill.

"I loved that desk," she heard Godric sigh. "Miss it, too. You've no idea how useful an enchanted desk can be."

"Enchanted?" Hermione asked, looking up at Godric. "Enchanted how?"

"Oops," he said, as Helga frowned at him. "Sorry, can't say. Terribly sorry, but that's part of whatever Albus wants you to do, I'm sure."

"Humph." Hermione turned back to the desk. She picked up a scroll and unwound it.

_From the Desk of Godric Gryffindor, Memo to Salazar Slytherin _

_Salazar, _

_Could you please tell your students to stop feeding mine blemish potions? Their faces are becoming unsightly and extremely painful. Or, if you can't stop the Slytherins, please give me the counter-potion. Thank you. _

_Godric _

Hermione looked over the scroll again. "Interesting," she muttered. She picked up what seemed to be the response.

_From the Potions Table of Salazar Slytherin, Memo to Godric Gryffindor _

_Godric, _

_I would be most happy to give you the potions, you infallible twit erm, kind and forgiving person? If you would please have your students stop insulting mine every five minutes. It is most disconcerting trying to comfort a crying first year when one is trying to conduct Potions experiments. I've been driven to threatening my own students away from my lab. Please inform your students that once the teasing stops, I will be most evilly exhilarated to make them my test subjects, erm, happy to help them out of their predicament. You're welcome you over-boisterous red headed buffoon, erm, lovely co-Founder. _

_Salazar_

Hermione giggled and looked up at the Founders. "You two argued so much," she said. "I must think that these two 'memos' must've led to the breaking of your friendship."

"Hold 'em up," Godric said. He and Salazar read them. "No, those are from about two years after we Founded Hogwarts. Salazar didn't leave until, what, fifteen years after the Founding?"

Salazar nodded. "That sounds about right," he said.

"You people need therapy," Hermione muttered, and went back to rummaging through the desk. "Needed," she corrected herself.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, please review! Obvious bits in the memos should've been striked out, but I can't control FF. Anyway, hope you liked it...

-Manion


	5. A Trip Into The Past

**11/06/04**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Ok, I'm finally posting again! I'm going to put several chapters up and at the ending bit, I'll put ending notes there. See you at seven!

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Five

Blaise sat out in the garden and looked at what was planted. There seemed to be a lot of rose bushes. Everywhere you looked, there was a bush. The garden was alive with their scent.

"Too many roses," he muttered, and tried to rip them out. Its branches wove themselves around his arms, thorns poking into his skin menacingly. "Okay, okay," he told the bush. "I get it. You're the Founder's bushes and you're supposed to stay here." The bush slowly unwound itself, and went back to being pretty.

He breathed in the scent of a rose that was dominant in the theme of the garden and all of a sudden was thrown into the silvery water of the fountain. Before he hit the water, he felt a thorny vine unwrap from his leg.

He wasn't in the garden anymore; he was in the Great Hall. He stood up and looked around. There, off to his left, were the Founders. They were arguing about something.

"Pensieve," Blaise mumbled, and walked over to the Founders to hear what they were talking about. He recognized it from when he fell into his grandfather's.

"What I don't see is why they have to be in the rose garden," Helga said crossly. "It's my garden, and I've spent a few fair years cultivating those bushes into what they are now."

"But it's the only place that no one would think to go," Rowena said. "And it's protected against the students getting in, so they wouldn't know."

"I don't see why we can't just make it a thing and hide it somewhere," Salazar mumbled.

"Oh, right, like your idea for us to leave a basilisk in the school is a good one," Godric retorted. "I'm glad the rest of us nixed _that_ idea." He turned to Helga and Rowena. "If it makes you feel better, Helga, we'll just make them be roses. A particular rose, but a rose nonetheless. You could even pick which one it is, just remember that it needs to be a dominant theme in the garden."

Helga looked at each of her co-Founders. "I don't suppose that there's any other choice," she said, frowning.

"No!" Salazar, Godric, and Rowena said simultaneously.

"Fine. They can be roses," Helga conceded.

"Thank you, Helga, my dear," Rowena said. "You won't regret it. Now, what protection spell should we put on the-- What is it, Mr. Reid?" She asked a small strawberry-blond boy who had dashed up suddenly to her.

"Well, I was wondering, Professor Ravenclaw..." The boy's voice faded as Blaise was catapulted out of the Pensieve and back into the garden as the memory faded. Obviously the pensieve had been enchanted to only allow a person to see one memory each time they viewed it.

He stood dazed for a few moments before walking over to the blood red rose that showed most in the garden's pattern. "What are you?" he murmured, stroking a petal on one of the full-blown blooms. He could have sworn that it moved to feel more of his finger.

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Hermione was sitting at the desk when Blaise came into her room after knocking briskly without waiting for an answer, and pulled a stool up next to her desk and sat down.

"Yes?" she asked Blaise.

"Guess what just happened," he said, still a bit stunned.

"I don't know."

"C'mon, guess!"

"No, I'm terrible at guessing."

"Fine. I was out in the garden, trying to get some space for something _other_ than roses, and these red roses pushed me into the fountain, which turns out to be a Pensieve..." He went on and explained, Hermione becoming more and more fascinated.

When he finished, she sat there for a moment. "Wow. We should investigate," she said, digging through the desk for anything that mentioned a Pensieve.

"Congratulations," Godric said. Hermione and Blaise looked up. "You've picked up a piece of the puzzle."

"What?" Hermione said.

"Huh?" Blaise asked.

Godric frowned, and looked off into the distance. "I'm afraid I can't really tell you anything. But have you ever thought of trying things more than once? I mean, just because it works once means that it can't possibly work twice, can it?"

Hermione blinked at him. "Does that mean that we should try to access the Pensieve in the fountain?" she asked slowly.

"Perhaps," Godric said. "But I can't really tell you anything. You should think for yourselves, you know."

Blaise blinked. "I'm slightly confused," he said to Hermione. "I mean, I just fell in a Pensieve, for—"He swore, and Hermione, out of habit, reminded him not to swear. "I'll swear if I want to, damn it!" he exclaimed, irritated, shocked and confused.

"Listen, Zabini," Hermione said, fixing him with a look, "this is rather confusing. You have just burst into my room _claiming_ to have 'fallen' into a Pensieve. I find that hard to believe at the moment. Perhaps after a few moments of thought will sort it out."

£ £ £ £ £

They stood in the garden and looked around.

"I can't believe you convinced me to do this," Hermione muttered.

She went over to a rose bush and tried to pluck a rose. The bush wrapped a thorny branch around her ankle and tipped her into the fountain. She heard Blaise falling into it after her.

When they stood up again, they were in the garden again, but this time the Founders were there.

"Well," Helga said, standing up and brushing dirt off her apron. "It's done. We've installed them."

"What about maintenance?" Salazar asked. "How will we maintain these things when we're dead?" He waved a hand at the red roses.

"Well that's why we made sure that they won't need maintenance for about a thousand years," Rowena said.

"But when they do?" Salazar went on. "What will happen then?"

"Well," Godric said, "we're going to have to make sure that we have a smart Headmaster, then."

"No," Helga said, glancing at the roses. "They say that they need two people, preferably students, for some reason, to tune them. They say that they'll know when they need it and tell us somehow."

"Wait a second," Salazar said. "'They' say?"

"Somehow, I guess since we enchanted them, and since I'm more in tune with plants than the rest of you, I can hear their... plant voices."

"I always knew she was crazy," Salazar muttered. Godric flicked him.

"Shut it 'Zar," Godric said. "This is important."

The memory suddenly faded, and Hermione and Blaise were thrown back into the garden of their time.

"Well," Hermione said, kneeling by the plants. "That was interesting."

"To be sure," Blaise replied. "And I'm not sure that I want to experience it again."

"Neither am I." Hermione touched a bloom and sniffed it. "They smell like regular roses to me. It's hard to believe that they're somehow magical."

"That's odd for roses," Blaise remarked. "They're beautiful, that's for certain, but mostly are used for decoration and protection. You never see them in whatever this is. And it certainly isn't a decoration spell. But it isn't a protection spell either, or not one of the common ones, at least. The whole 'delicate and deadly' aspect of flowers. Only when they're enchanted are they deadly, though. Mostly when you plant them next to a wall, it's to make sure burglars don't get in."

"Ah," Hermione said, getting off and brushing the dust on her pants off. "Well, let's go look in Ravenclaw's library."

They went indoors and went down a corridor to a large pinewood door that had a 'Library' sign hung on it. Hermione reached out and pushed the door open to reveal a library that, though not as big as the Student's, it was middle-sized. She walked in and went over to a shelf.

"Miss is looking for a book?" asked a squeaky voice below her left elbow. Hermione glanced down and saw a small House-Elf with a rectangular nose looking up at her, clutching a book.

"Yes," Hermione said. "What's your name? And could you tell me who was the last person to use this library before I look in any books, though?"

The House-Elf sniffed. "Professor Ravenclaw, Miss," the House-Elf replied. "And my name is Bookie."

"Bookie?" Blaise put in leaning against the bookshelf and smirking.

Hermione ignored him. "What do you mean, 'Professor Ravenclaw'?" she said. "I thought that it was a policy for the Headmasters to have the Heads of House in the Founder's chambers. How could I be the first since Ravenclaw?"

Bookie sniffed. "The library doesn't respond to every Head that tramples through this place." She glanced around. "Things that the Founders made have a mind of their own sometimes, Miss," she said. "They... take a liking —or a disliking— to people. When Riddle was Head Boy you can be sure that the library wouldn't let him anywhere near it."

"Interesting," Hermione murmured. "Now, can you show me where Rowena's journals are? And the other Founder's, if you've got them."

Bookie nodded and led her and Blaise to a small bookshelf at the back of the library. "Here are the notebooks that Professor Ravenclaw kept," she said. "Read them if it pleases you, Miss, but please don't take them from the library."

As Hermione looked down at the cover of the book, Bookie left. It was engraved so: The Notes and Ideas of Rowena Ravenclaw, Head of the Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "She was certainly interesting," Hermione muttered to Blaise.

Blaise shrugged. "If you founded Hogwarts, wouldn't your ego go up a bit?" he asked, looking over her shoulder at the book.

"True." Hermione opened the book on a random page.

_Godric and Salazar are arguing again. If they keep up this behavior, we shall never get anything set into the Castle before the original spell sets. Those two are most bothersome, I must admit. _

_Helga and I have sworn on ever developing a relationship beyond friends with either of them. We are now considering a nunnery for us and a monk's life for them. It would be interesting, I think, to see Godric trying to recite the Psalms backwards and forwards. I do not think he even knows one forwards. _

_I have been thinking of how to develop the spell so that it works on roses. The original copy of it isn't meant for animate objects, it's meant for statuary, but I think I can re-format it so that it works on roses. That's why my suggestion was the statue of Godric holding the Hogwarts seal, with all the animals at his feet. But no one else agreed with me. _

_Salazar thought it should be that dratted Hat. Well, since _I _was the one to suggest the Hat for Sorting after we're "gone", I _know_ that the Hat cannot be adapted to any other spell. Otherwise it would cease to perform its main function: to be an annoying singing hat and sort students._

Hermione tried to leaf through the rest of the entries. "It won't let me," she said, annoyed. "Bookie!" The House-Elf appeared in front of her. "Why won't this book let me read anything else but this entry, do you know?"

Bookie peered at the book. "It seems," the House-Elf said, placing a finger on the book's spine, "that it has an enchantment on it, Miss."

"What kind of enchantment?" Blaise asked, irritably.

"Sir will excuse Bookie for not knowing the extent of this spell," apologized Bookie. "But it seems to have a time-release spell on it."

"'Time-release'?" Hermione asked. "What does that mean?" Blaise glanced at her, surprised. "We haven't got to that yet in Advanced Charms," she explained.

Bookie and Blaise hid snickers. "Time-release spells are when there's a spell on something to let it show its contents one piece at a time. Professor Ravenclaw was very fond of it, in case Professors Gryffindor or Slytherin took to reading her private things." Bookie glanced at the book. "It seems that this one is particularly strong. Other than that, I don't think I can say anything else about it. For now."

Hermione and Blaise looked at one another, sighing, before replacing the book and leaving the library.

"Well, that was exciting," Blaise said dryly. Hermione looked at him. "We go in there, find an incredibly promising book, and it won't let us read more than one bloody entry."

"Hmm," Hermione replied.

"I'll speak as I want too," he replied. They turned a corner into an unfamiliar room. "What the..." He trailed off, glancing around him. "Where are we?"

They had entered a room decorated with blue and bronze. As soon as Blaise asked where they were, a small kiosk popped up in front of them. Parts of the map on the kiosk, which was large, were undecipherable. Others were clear. They recognized the library, their rooms, the living room and the garden. The label that was stuck on this room was 'Ravenclaw's Study'.


	6. Meeting

**11/06/04**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP, Starbucks, or 'Wake up' by the lostprophets, or anything that has a copyright or a trademark.

£

Six

"Oh, great," Blaise said sarcastically. "We're now stuck in Rowena Ravenclaw's bloody personal study." His stomach rumbled. "Sod it, I'm _hungry_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, we can't do anything about that now, can we, Zabini?" she replied.

He glared at her. Looking around, he remarked, "I'd like something to eat." A plate of jammie dodgers appeared on a table to his left. "Lovely," he remarked. "Jammie dodgers. I despise them." The cookies were whisked away and replaced with a bacon-and-mayonnaise on rye sandwich. "Hmm..." Blaise's eyebrows went up. "This seems edible."

Hermione eyed it. "They sell those sandwiches everywhere in London," she said. "In the Underground, at museums, Starbucks..."

"'Starbucks'?" Blaise asked. "What in the world is a 'Starbucks'?"

"Coffee shop. Not really a café, but it does have sandwiches and the like," Hermione told him, taking half of his sandwich. "And I think that as long as we're in Ravenclaw's study, we might as well look around a bit."

"Oh, I wouldn't advise that, my dear," said an unfamiliar voice. They looked up at a portrait that hung over the desk.

"Who're you?" Blaise asked rudely.

The Stately Woman in the portrait sniffed at him. She sat like a queen on a blue stool, lace dripping on her blue gown and blue pearl necklaces adorning her neck. Her mountain of gray-streaked black hair was curled and piled on top of her head like a crown. Rings dotted her fingers, and a small white lapdog sat on her lap. Her face was that of an aged beauty, a matriarch deigning to sit for a few minutes to chat with her family. A few wrinkles crossed her face; most were laugh lines, but a few were worry wrinkles. Her sharp black eyes looked out from a hawk-looking face. "I," she said, "am Winifred Ravenclaw."

"Winifred Ravenclaw?" Blaise said, still being slightly rude. "I've never heard of you."

Winifred ignored him and looked at Hermione. "And, who, my dear, are you two?" she asked.

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said, "and this is Blaise Zabini."

Winifred looked back at Blaise, this time a bit more graciously. "Oh, a Zabini!" she exclaimed. "I now realize your discourtesy, and can forgive you for it." 

Blaise blinked at her. "What?" he asked, munching on his sandwich.

"Well," Winifred said, patting the dog's head, "you are a descendant of Herford Zabini, are you not?"

Blaise nodded. "My several-times great-grandfather," he said.

Winifred said, "he is —was— my brother. I married into the Ravenclaw family from the Zabini's."

Blaise blinked again, this time a bit more confused and shocked. "Um," he said. "All right."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering, shouldn't we look around a bit?" Hermione prodded.

"My dear," Winifred said, "my daughter was rather prone to booby-trapping things sometimes, because that Godric," she laughed, "was a bit prone to snooping through everyone's things. He meant well, poor fellow."

"I'm sure he didn't," Hermione muttered. Looking back up at the portrait, she asked, "Your daughter? Rowena Ravenclaw?"

Winifred smiled. "Yes. Rowena was my youngest daughter. Lovely girl. Full of brains."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Could you please tell us how, exactly, we could get back to our rooms?"

"Oh, yes, my dear," Winifred said. "You go down that hallway and turn right..."

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They got back into their chambers, tired but excited about their discoveries. Both went to prepare to take a shower and as they left their rooms they saw each other in bathrobes and holding towels.

"Oh," Hermione said. She motioned to Blaise. "Go ahead, really, I can wait."

Blaise nodded. "I'm going to take a bath, can you wait that long?"

Hermione smiled. "Of course, do go ahead."

Blaise flashed her a brief smile and went into the bathroom.

Hermione heard him splashing around for a bit before he started to sing.

"Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,  
Yeah, so tired of waiting, waiting for ourselves  
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,  
Yeah, so sick of waiting, for us to make a move  
  
Are we meant to take the pain  
Should we sit around and wait  
All we need is to say all the words that  
I never liked, you make us hate  
  
Cause every day we're getting older  
And every day we all get colder  
We're sick of waiting for our answers  
  
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,  
Yeah so tired of waiting, waiting for ourselves  
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,  
Yeah so sick of waiting, for us to make a move..." Blaise sang.

She shrugged, and went into her room and closed the door.

Blaise sighed as it shifted to the next song, a bouncier in tone, but slightly more serious, due to the lyrics, song. It cycled through the song list and paused, midair, before Blaise said, "Play."

He finished washing and got out of the tub, which emptied itself without waiting for him to act. He shrugged at it, pulled his bathrobe on, and went out to knock on Hermione's door.

Knock, knock, knock. No response. "Granger!" Blaise called, leaning against the door jam, trying not to get too dizzy after being warm, and then, suddenly, cold, due to not enough heating in a thousand-year-old castle.

The door swung open. Hermione stood in the doorway, frowning and still in her bathrobe. "What?" she snapped.

Blaise was taken aback. "Sorry," he apologized. She was rarely snippy, and when she was, it was when she had been disturbed from something, someone, or some task that was important to her or someone else. "Just wanted to tell you that the bathroom's free."

"Okay," Hermione said. He didn't move. "Was there anything else?"

"Huh?" Blaise asked, shaken out of staring at her bedpost. "Oh, no. I'm just a bit tired, that's all. See you in the morning."

Hermione watched him go into his room, a bit worried about him. She shook it off, however. Slytherins were never very straightforward, and Zabini was one of the oddest ones she had met to date. She shrugged, closing the door behind her as she went to take a shower.

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The next day was hectic; Hermione barely knew how she made it through her classes and the two hours of N.E.W.T. studying with a group of Ravenclaws.

As she slumped into the Gryffindor-patterned couch, she groaned. They had a Prefects' meeting that night. While she liked Prefects' meetings, she had looked forward to a night alone, relaxing and thinking of nothing but herself and, perhaps, Crookshanks. Crookshanks, however, did not seem to be thinking of Hermione at all. He was nowhere to be seen or heard, until Hermione heard Blaise yell from his room. 

"Get out of here, you bloody cat!" His door crashed open and he held Crookshanks at arm's length, sneering at the cat, who seemed to be purring, of all things. He dropped the cat onto Hermione's lap where she was sitting on the couch. "Keep your disgusting, shedding beast out of my room," he said, looking at Crookshanks with an awful expression on his face. "He almost bloody_ shredded_ my favorite MMD cover."

Hermione held Crookshanks near to her. "Sorry," she said. "I'm sure he didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?"

"Whether or not he _meant_ to, please keep him well away from my things," Blaise said, still eying the cat. "If he had, I wouldn't be able to get another till Christmas, and even if I owled Mum, she wouldn't know which bands I like or where to get them, even if I told her."

"Wait a second," Hermione said, backtracking a bit, "what's a 'MMD'?"

Blaise sighed. "I can't really explain. Here." He summoned the MMD from his room and it flew and he neatly caught it, muttering the activating words. He set it to a song, and closed his eyes as the opening riff sounded. His head started to move with the music.

Hermione muffled a laugh as he moved. But as he began to sing along softly, she listened more closely to the lyrics.

As the song played out, Blaise lowered the volume as another song started to play. "I'm not sure why I like this," he said, looking at the rotating disk. "It's interesting, I think that's why." He looked at Hermione. "I find music fascinating."

Hermione nodded. "It's really a nice MMD, or, at least, what I've heard was." A grin flickered over his face. "Um, do you remember that we have a Prefects/Heads meeting tonight?" He cursed, far more so than she'd ever heard him before. "Zabini!" she exclaimed.

He laughed. "Another five Galleons for me, then," he said. When her shocked expression changed to inquisitive, he went on, "Draco bet me five Galleons that you wouldn't react. I said you would. Five Galleons to me."

"That's twice you've bet on me," she muttered darkly.

He laughed again. "No, Gryff, not just you. The first time was you and your friends, Potter and the-- er, and Weasley."

Hermione was, she admitted to herself, a bit hurt that it wasn't just her that was singled out. But her hurt was fazed out by anger that the Slytherin Duo would pick on them. "Really, Zabini," she scolded, "must you bet? It's a bad habit and I dislike it, especially when it's about me."

Blaise's mouth twitched. He tried to hold back a grin, but failed. "Really, Gryffette," he said, lounging on the Ravenclaw chez lounge. "D'you honestly think that your scolding will make any difference? I'm not one of your precious friends, you know." He leaned right next to her face. "I am not so easily swayed from my plans, purposes, wants or needs." Returning to his former position, he said, "While you are smart, and know a great deal about your friends and many other people, I find that you pretend to know a great deal about me, when, in fact, you don't. You know no more about me than I know about your prat boy toy, Weasley-"

"Wait a minute!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm not dating Ron!"

"You're not?" he said, surprised. He cocked his head, peering at her. "You're not. Interesting. I was wrong," he murmured to himself. "But even though, I don't appreciate people --or, namely, you-- pretending to think that they know everything about every fiber of my being, mind and soul. You really don't."

"I know," Hermione said. "I never said I did."

"Ah," Blaise said, holding up a finger, "but you _acted_ like it. I'm not a mind reader. My sister, Lilithe, is, but I'm not. I can't decipher every little action or word you say into my language, the infinitely less important language of men, as I am told by all three of my sisters, plus my mother."

"You have three sisters?" Hermione said, surprised. "I didn't know that."

"Yes. Lilithe is the oldest. She's married to a wizard in Naples. I'm an uncle," he said proudly. "My second sister, Zel, is going to Vienna University of Witchcraft and Wizarding. And June is in her fifth year at Beauxbatons."

"Wow," Hermione said. "I'm an only child, though I always wished I had a little sister."

"Don't," Blaise said dryly. "They are no fun, trust me."

Hermione laughed, but stopped when there was a tapping noise on the entrance portrait. She glanced at Blaise. He shrugged. "Come in," he yelled. She looked at him, mouth agape. "What?" She said nothing. "What'd I do?" Sighing, he went to the portrait and opened it for whoever had knocked.

Ron, Lavender Brown, Ginny, a boy named Theo, and the two newest Prefects for Gryffindor came in.

"Nice digs," Ron said approvingly to Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Blaise. "Thanks, Ron. We rather like them."

"We? We who?" Ron asked, looking around. "Oh. Zabini. Hello."

"Hello, Weasley," Blaise replied, not looking at Ron, but at the ginger cat slowly making its way into his room. "No, cat!" he exclaimed. Crookshanks darted towards Blaise's room. "I said no!" Blaise dove onto Crookshanks and pushed him aside as he closed his bedroom door. "Stay out, kitty. Or else." Brushing himself off, he turned to the Prefects. "If you'll follow me to the meeting room," he said, the gracious host.


	7. Sleep Deprivation

Seven

Hermione sat on the couch, watching Blaise usher Ron, Lavender, Ginny, Theo, and the new fifth-year Prefects back into the meeting room, amused at how fast his manner had changed.

Then, someone started to bang on the entrance portrait. Hermione went over and opened it.

Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Jack Ustar, Myrna Firth, and Slytherin's two new fifth-year Prefects entered. Draco sneered at her.

"Granger," he said.

"Malfoy." Hermione looked away, seeing Blaise walking down the hall.

"Draco, Pansy, Jack, Myrna, Elle, Lee," Blaise said, cool as a cucumber towards his Housemates. "Welcome."

"Blaise," Draco walked over and started to speak to Blaise in low tones as they went back to the meeting room.

As they walked away, she wondered where the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Prefects were. Shrugging, she walked to the meeting room behind Blaise and Draco.

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Hermione sat at one end of the table, talking to Ron and Lavender as Blaise sat down next to Draco, shaking hands about something. Blaise nodded, face twisted into an unpleasant grimace.

Hermione's eyes drifted to Draco, who was looking at someone near her. When she tried to see, Ron tapped her on her shoulder, asking her about Transfiguration.

Blaise coughed, "Ahem." Everyone's chatter stopped and their attention turned to Blaise. "Thank you. This is the first Prefects and Heads meeting of the year. If you would look at your outlines, we'll get started."

They all looked down at the table and examined a sheet of paper detailing who would patrol when.

"I can't patrol on Thursday's, Blaise," Pansy Parkinson whined.

Blaise looked at her. "Why?"

She squirmed. Blaise could be very intimidating in his own way sometimes. "I, erm, um," she said. She sighed. "I'll do it."

"Good," Blaise said. "Moving on..."

"Wait a minute," Hermione said, looking at the Friday night schedule. "I can't patrol on Friday's, it's my Charms study group."

Blaise shuffled some papers around. "Would you be able to take it then, erm, Luna?" he asked Luna Lovegood.

Luna looked a bit vague. "Yes," she said.

The rest of the meeting was all business, as the new Prefects were assigned patrolling duties and the date for the next meeting was settled upon.

Ron was the last Prefect to leave. He and Hermione talked about what was happening with Harry, and they hugged before Ron said goodnight and went back to the Tower.

"So, you aren't dating?" Blaise asked sarcastically, before going into his room.

Hermione's mouth fell open in anger, but before she could yell, music started to play in Blaise's room.

"_Eyes _

_Boring a way through me _

_Paralyze _

_Controlling completely _

_Now _

_There is a fire in me _

_Fire that burns _

_Fire that burns... _

_This fire is out of control _

_I'm gonna burn this city _

_Burn this city _

_Then I _

_I'm out of control _

_And I burn..."_

She rolled her eyes and went into her room, slamming the door behind her. The song went on, and eventually the MMD played out, but Blaise started it again.

Finally, she had had enough. She pulled a bathrobe on over her red pajamas and stormed over to his door. She banged on it, not stopping until it started to open.

Blaise stood there, eyes half closed, wearing pajama bottoms but no top. Hermione stared for a moment, not being able to help herself.

Later, she would admit to herself—and herself _only_—that Blaise Zabini had a very nice chest. But at that moment, she ignored it and fixed her eyes on his.

"Would you please, for the love of _God_, turn off your bloody music!" she said, irate.

Blaise rubbed sleep out of his eyes. "What? You don't like it?" he said, teasing even when he was half asleep.

Hermione made an indignant sound and glared harder. "Blaise, I'm asking you, _please_ turn _off_ your music so I can _sleep_!"

"That sounded more like a demand than a question," Blaise said, grinning a bit.

"Argh!" Hermione cried. She stomped on Blaise's foot and rushed back to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Blaise looked at her closed door for a moment and shrugged. Yawning, he turned his music off and went back to bed.

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Their week was jam-packed, and Hermione felt she barely had time to breathe, with her research about their Potions project and her Arithmancy homework, plus watching after Harry and helping the Order out when she could.

Blaise felt just as pressured, but he handled it in a different way than Hermione. On Saturday, he went into his room, put on his pajamas, turned on his favorite MMD and lay on his bed, reading old Potions texts.

He was betting with himself when Hermione would finally pop and start banging on his door again like the last time. He actually started timing it.

Glancing over at his timer, he found that it had been two hours since he started playing the disk, and she still hadn't exploded.

So, he did what every other seventeen-year-old boy bent on annoying someone would do. He turned the music up.

Fifteen minutes later, there was still no response. He gathered up his reading things and went into the living room and lay on the Slytherin couch, across from her, and turned the MMD up again.

Hermione sat on the Gryffindor couch reading the Daily Prophet, or, at least, pretending to. She was actually trying to do anything but stare at the cool and composed Blaise Zabini. He glanced at his watch and swore.

"Bloody hell!" he said. Running back into his room, he changed into his Quidditch robes. "Bloody noon practices," he muttered. Walking over to Hermione, he asked, "Can you zip me up? I can't reach it."

Hermione shook herself, and zipped the back of his robes up. "When's the first game?" she asked.

Blaise turned around. "Three weeks from now. Gryffindor versus Slytherin, you know," he said. "So, are you going to be bipartisan, or are you going to root for Gryffindor, Gryff?" A twinkle appeared in his sparkling blue eyes.

"I'm going to root for Gryffindor, of course," Hermione responded. "What, did you think I was going to cheer _you_ on?" She laughed. "I'd watch out for Ginny, I've seen some of the team's practices, and she's wicked fast. I believe Fred and George bought Ron and Ginny new brooms with their money from the joke shop."

"I'll keep that in mind," Blaise said, smiling. He tweaked her nose. "And, now, Gryff, I must be off. Draco will skin me otherwise." He nodded, picked up his broom and ran out of the chambers.

Hermione sank back into her sofa, a bit shocked. "Was that Blaise Zabini?" she muttered to herself.

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Blaise ran onto the Quidditch pitch to come face-to-face with an unhappy Draco.

"You're late," Draco said, fingering something in his pocket.

Blaise twisted his ring. "I wouldn't, if I was you," he said pointedly, nodding towards a red-haired figure in the stands.

Draco glared at him. "Spy," he muttered to the rest of the team, and flew off towards Ginny.

Blaise mounted his broom and took off, circling the pitch, getting his talents back.

Mountjoy, another Chaser, threw the Quaffle to Hubb, the third Chaser, and Blaise zoomed through the fifteen-foot gap, caught the Quaffle, and tossed it through a ring.

Practice went on, and the Slytherin team was cheered up by Blaise's skills. Draco even admitted that, "with Blaise on the team, we might even win the tournament this year." So Blaise felt pretty good when he walked back towards the Castle, whistling good-naturedly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco and Ginny heading down to the lake. Deciding to ignore them, he looked back towards the Castle and Hermione entered his line of vision. Panicking, he ran over to her.

"'Lo Gryff," he said. She dropped her books.

"Oh, hi, er, Blaise."

"What're you doing?" Blaise asked cheerfully.

"I just thought I'd get some fresh air and study down by the lake," Hermione replied, picking up her books and putting them in her bag.

"You know what's a good place to study?" Blaise said. "The Quidditch pitch. C'mon with me, and I'll help you. Here, get on."

Hermione eyed the broom with a suspicious expression, but Blaise swept her on before she could object.

Kicking off, he flew towards the pitch. He touched down in a Gryffindor section of the stands and helped Hermione off his broom.

"That was... interesting," Hermione said, pulling her hair out of her face. "Blasted hair," she muttered.

They settled down to reading, and Blaise helped her with the Potions term project, writing about a foot of facts about the potion.

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That evening, they were back in their living room, reading. But this time Hermione was reading a Muggle book, and Blaise was reading his latest Wizarding action novel.

An owl pecked on a skylight. Blaise glanced up, and frowned. But, as the owl pecked once more, it fell through the glass, as if it were jelly.

The owl righted itself midair and flew down to gently land on the arm of the Slytherin couch. It offered its leg to Blaise. He took the letter and smiled.

"Thanks, Oddsbreath," he said, patting the owl on its head. It hooted, and he fished in a drawer to give the owl a treat.

He opened the letter.

_Dear Blaise, _

_How's Hogwarts? I can't believe Mum and Dad let you go when they made Lilithe, Juniper and me go to France for school. I'm still annoyed. But, I'm writing to give you a heads-up. Lilithe is coming to Hogwarts. Yes, you read that right. _Lilithe is coming to Hogwarts._ I'm sorry! I think I was the one who gave her the idea, but it could've been Roberto. Whatever you do, don't think about what I told you. By the way, Eduardo says hello. I still can't figure out how to tell Mum that I married a Venetian wizard. Lilithe already married into the Italian stock, now _darling_ Zelphinia. Middle child syndrome, sorry Blaise. _

_But anyway, _don't_ think about Eddie when Lil's around, or she'll _know

_Love, _

_Zel _

_PS: I'm pregnant! _

Blaise sat in shock. He reread the letter.

"Shit!" he yelled. Hermione looked up, startled.

"Zabini!" she said, sounding somewhat like a broken record. "Don't--"

"Swear?" Blaise supplied helpfully. "I know. But my oldest sister is coming to Hogwarts from Naples for reasons unknown, and my best friend, my other sister, Zel, married a Venetian wizard named Eduardo, and is now pregnant!" He sat down, the letter crumpled in his hand. "And Lil, though I love her, she's my sister, is the favorite and she is a huge tattletale. Add the fact that she's a mind reader means she'll find out about Zel in no time when she shows up. And Mum _hates_ being the last to know, and if she finds out about Zel before Zel gets a chance to tell her, it'll be hell at Christmas."

"Oh, my," Hermione said. "Is your family always so dramatic?"

"You should meet my aunts and uncles," Blaise said, voice muffled.

£££££

**A/N:** So... What d'you think? Please review!!!!!!!!!


	8. The Sister

**11/29/04 **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. I-ay o-day ot-nay own-ay Arry-hay Otter-pay. :D

**A/N:** Finally! Two new chapters! Anyway, have fun with these. No end notes on this one, or beginning on nine. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, Ellie for listening to me ramble on about things she didn't know about, and James for sticking through my writers block for ten, which finally was crushed and now I've written up to twelve! You'll have to wait for eleven to be beta'd for ten, so enjoy these, and maybe we can hit fifty with these!!!

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Eight

"So," Hermione said. "What's the matter with your sister?"

Blaise's face remained buried in his hands. "Nothing, besides the fact that she's a mind-reader, a complete nose, and pushy as all hell." Clearly, when distraught, Blaise's mouth slipped a bit.

"And why are you so scared of her reading your mind?"

"Would _you_ want your older, self-righteous sister to know what you were thinking? I mean, I'm _used_ to her poking around in my thoughts, but I don't think she should," Blaise responded, his now-visible eyes glaring. "When I had a crush on this girl, she blabbed right in front of her. The girl, I mean. Lil blabbed to the girl. Most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me."

Hermione's mouth twitched. "That's interesting," she commented.

"It's not funny." Blaise's voice became muffled again. "She also told Mum when Zel and June were," he coughed, "well, she told them a lot of things to do with Zel and June. Mum used to take June and Lil along on business trips, leaving us with Dad, so Zel and I are the scholars of the new generation of Zabinis."

"What does your mum do?" Hermione asked.

Blaise shrugged, leaning back in the sofa. "Err, she's a research and developer for the University of Magic in London," he said. "Something more than that, since she travels an awful lot. I'm not exactly sure, since she doesn't talk to me about her job, or any, really, that much." He pushed his hair out of his face. "She wasn't home much when I was younger. When June was born, I was two, and she was home for about a year. She never really seemed interested in Zel and me, I guess because we were more like Dad than like her." His crystalline eyes dulled. "We used to try everything to get her attention, but it never worked. She was always wrapped up in Lil and June. Lilithe and Juniper," he scoffed. "The two children she named. Dad named Zel and me. I was named after his grandfather," he said as an afterthought.

"So you're named after your great-grandfather?" Hermione asked, fascinated.

"Yeah. His name was Blaise something-something-something Moristy," Blaise said. "My father's mother's father. Mine is Blaise Michael Hyndir Délas Zabini the Third."

"The third?" Hermione said. She was surprised that there were other people with names like that.

"Yeah, crazy, eh Gryff?" Blaise laughed. "It's a Zabini inside joke. I'll tell you sometime. Now I must go owl my father to see if he found that charm yet." He walked into his room, muttering about charms that prevented people from reading your mind.

Hermione shrugged and went back to her book.

₤₤₤₤₤

Sunday was a Hogsmeade day. Hermione, Harry and Ron walked down to the Entrance Hall together, chatting about Quidditch, Hermione being educated on its finer points for what seemed to be the thousandth time.

They climbed into a carriage and were about to close the door when a tousled Blaise Zabini hopped in, glaring at Harry and Ron, but nodding to Hermione.

"Zabini," Harry said. "What're you doing?"

Blaise ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Harry blandly. "I'm knitting a sweater." He rolled his eyes. "What does it look like Potter? Or is being famous preventing you from thinking?"

"Shut it, Zabini," Ron growled.

"Really, Weasley," Blaise said, smirking, "are you thinking of _attacking_ the _Head Boy_?" Ron's ears turned bright red and he shrunk back in his seat, muttering darkly.

"Blaise," Hermione said, "just tell us why you're in this carriage, please."

"Well, my mother always said that when a man and a woman love each other very much, they-"

"Zabini!" they all cried.

"What?" Blaise asked, smirking. "S'truth." They glared at him. "Oh, right. I was kicked out of my carriage by a dear friend of mine and his lovely girlfriend."

"Who-" Hermione started to ask, when Blaise interrupted her.

"Oh, look, we're here. Cheerio," he said, hopping out of the carriage. He sauntered off, whistling.

"Don't look at me," Hermione said crossly. "I live with him, I don't claim to understand him." They followed Blaise's suit, and got out of the carriage.

"So," Ron said, as they walked through the town. "What should we do?"

"I was going to go to the bookstore," Hermione said, "so if you want to come…"

"Hermione, threats will get you nowhere," Harry said, grinning. "We'll see you at the Three Broomsticks later, okay?"

"All right." They parted ways, and Hermione walked over and into the bookstore.

Looking around, she saw no one was there and went into the Arcane Magic section. Looking at a cabinet, she asked the clerk to unlock it for her and she ran her finger over several book's spines before finding a book by Rowena Ravenclaw.

Opening it, she found a short section entitled, _The Rose Spell_. As she was flipping through the pages, she found a few paragraphs devoted to the spell.

_The Rose Spell is a very difficult magic to perform. It took me several months to adapt it from what it once was, which was a spell for statuary, into what it is now. _

_Beautifully subtle, it is undetectable unless it wishes to be seen or felt. The spell is adaptable only to certain things, such as crystal balls, plants, statues and animals, though the spell should be on a temporary basis, as they die about a week after the spell is performed. _

_It is the best Warding spell that I have ever come across. I highly recommend it. _

"Wards?" Hermione muttered, surprised. "The roses are… wards?"

"Bloody hell," a voice from over her right shoulder breathed. Hermione half-turned. It was Blaise. "Wards?"

Zabini! Were you spying on me?" Hermione cried indignantly.

"Not at all, Gryff," Blaise replied, a barely concealed smirk creeping up his lips. "I was just looking around for something interesting to read when I noticed, by accident, that you were reading a book by Rowena Ravenclaw. I would have asked you what it was about, but you seemed so focused on your reading that I decided to find out by myself."

For a moment, Hermione was at a loss. She tried to think of a sharp reply, but when she found none, she decided to change the subject. "Do you think we should tell Dumbledore about this roses?"

Blaise paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I'm not sure what we are supposed to do. We should take a look at that book of hers in the library, and the others, too."

"That seems to be the best way," Hermione said, tracing a finger on the book's text. "But what about this book? Shouldn't we get this one, too, if it's going to help us? I mean, somehow those roses have 'chosen' us, if the Pensieve and journal were any clue."

Blaise tried to take the book from her, but she held on tight. "Damn it, Granger!" he said, frustrated. "D'you even have the _money_ for this book?"

Hermione started to protest, but stopped when she saw the sign next to where she'd gotten the book. '_Thoughts On Arcane Spells,_ by Rowena Ravenclaw, 75 Galleons'. She blinked, and set the book back on the shelf.

Blaise sighed, and picked the book back up. "I can buy it, Granger," he said, still annoyed.

"But, it's so expensive!" Hermione protested.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Granger, really." She trailed behind him as he walked determinedly towards the cashier. "I get an allowance from my parents, deposited directly into my Gringott's account. I can afford this book, trust me." He set it on the counter in front of the cashier. As he rung it up, Blaise got out a checkbook. After he paid, he took the bag with the book in it, and walked swiftly out of the store, Hermione still trailing behind him.

"So… you have your own bank account?" Hermione asked him.

He held the door to The Three Broomsticks open for her. "Yeah, my parents gave each of us one when we were thirteen. To help us learn money-management, they said. All I know is that I don't really buy too much, Lilithe is a tightwad, Zel's money runs like the Nile, and June's money is non-existent." He looked at her. "What about you?"

Hermione shrugged. "My parents are Muggles, so I have to change pounds into Galleons at Gringotts before every school year. I don't have enough money to have my own bank account. Yet," She added, smiling as they sat down.

"Want a butterbeer?" Blaise asked. She nodded, and he tapped a waitress on the shoulder. "Two butterbeers, please." He handed the woman some Sickles and turned back to Hermione. She was looking at him in an odd way. "What?" he asked. "My father taught me that a gentleman always pays."

"If he taught you that, your dad must be a nice person," Hermione remarked as the waitress set down the two bottles. "Er, that sounded wrong. I mean, erm, that he really seems like a nice person." She blushed. "I'm saying it all wrong. I hope you know what I mean. And," she went on, looking at him, "you bought that book for me, you really should've let me pay for the butterbeers."

Blaise nodded. "I've (always) looked up to two people in my life: my father and my sister Zel. Now I look up to one, since Zel's shorter than me." He laughed. "Joking. I still admire my sister, but we're friends now. I don't see her as Athena anymore, though I greatly admire her determination and drive." He looked out into the distance. "I really miss her. She's my best friend. Now she's a couple of hundred miles away, and we can only talk by owl."

"Why doesn't she floo into Hogsmeade?"

"Oh, university, Eduardo, the baby now, and if she comes here, there's a slight chance that Mum might be here to shop, and Zel doesn't want to run into Mum."

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

Blaise blinked. "I'm not sure." It was obvious to Hermione that he _did_ know, just didn't feel like talking about it. She left it alone, and just sipped her butterbeer.

₤₤₤₤₤

That evening, Hermione walked into the Great Hall with Harry and Ron. She was telling them about Blaise buying the book.

"…And then he just _buys_ it! Like he buys seventy-five Galleon books every day!" Hermione was saying as they sat down at Gryffindor table.

"Your attention, students!" Professor McGonagall said. The chatter of the students died down and she went on. "Thank you. If you could shift your attention to Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore stood up. He cleared his throat. "Everyone, I have an announcement. There will be a series of lectures this semester on mind reading. Please welcome Professor Sererotti, everyone." A spatter of applause sounded as the new professor stood up.

She was of a middle height, with black hair and striking blue eyes. She looked at everyone. "Thank you," she said. "That's very kind. I'm Lilithe Sererotti, as Professor Dumbledore said, and I'm very happy to be here. I will try to make my series as interesting as possible, and I hope you all will enjoy my lectures. Thank you."

Hermione looked from Lilithe to Blaise, who was rolling his eyes and saying something to Draco, who laughed and replied. Blaise met her eyes and shook his head, rolling his eyes again.


	9. Sibling Rivalry Exposed

Nine

Later that evening, Hermione carefully ventured into the living room, after hearing Blaise storm in fifteen minutes earlier. He was sitting on his sofa, muttering darkly, photograph in his hands.

"Blaise?" she said, trying not to upset him further. "What's the matter?"

He looked up from the photo, eyes a dark shade of blue. "Lil is being a prat," he said. "Actually, she's mostly like that, and now she's a bitchy prat."

"Blaise!" Hermione gasped.

"I know, I know, 'Don't swear'," he said tiredly.

"No, not just that," Hermione said, frowning at him. "How can you say that about your _sister_?"

"Easy," Blaise replied, glaring at the photo again. "Let me demonstrate: She. Is. A. Bitchy. Prat."

"But-- w_hy_ would you say that about Lilithe?" Hermione asked.

"Hmm…" he said, looking off into space.

"Trying to remember?" Hermione asked, smiling slightly.

"No, no," he said, looking back at her, face carefully blank, "trying to figure out how I would say the number." Hermione blinked several times and his mouth twitched. "Lil," he went on, "while being an excellent mother and wonderful daughter, is a crap older sister to Zel and me. She and June get on like bears and honey, but she's always been rather distant and airy to me," he said bitterly. "Mum didn't really 'plan' on me. Didn't really want a son, I think." He shrugged. "So, she got a-" he blushed slightly "-wet nurse after I was born. Then, as soon as _she_ had recuperated, she went back to her job and took Lil with her. She left Zel and me, her two lonely children, at home with Dad. So we—that is, Zel and me—started helping Dad out with books in the library and with his work. I suppose this is more of a rant against Mum than Lil," he said ruefully.

"Well, yeah," Hermione agreed.

He leaned back into the sofa and made himself more comfortable. "Then, by all means, let me move on to my oldest sister," he said, bitter grin stretching across his face. "On my fifth birthday, right in the middle of opening presents, Lil told me that I was a 'mistake.' Mum was standing right there. She said nothing. Two months later, Lil started reading Zel's mind and mine, and there's an express rule of the house was that she isn't allowed. She would go and tell Mum everything I was thinking, and they would _laugh_ about it. This went on until Lil went off to Beauxbatons, when I was six. She did it when she came home for holidays, and would do it now, except I found a charm to block that. It's infused with the spell, but it needs the runic form to keep it that way." He fished around under his shirt and pulled up a image of a rune, formed out of silver, which hung on a silver chain along with a ring. "Lil's form of mind reading is different than Legillimency. That you _learn_, and Occlumency is hard to learn, and I'm not sure if it works on her kind." He shrugged. "And isn't Legillimency more of reading memories? I believe, from what I've read, that it is, and Lil reads thoughts, not memories."

"But," Hermione said, motioning towards the ring on his left hand, "if your mum didn't want you, why did she make you that charm-ring?"

Blaise looked at it, fingering the ring on his left-hand middle finger. "Hmm…" he hesitated. "I'm not sure if it really came from Mum."

"How so?"

"Well, it was outside of my bedroom door the summer after fourth year, when You-Know-Who came back, wrapped with 'Mum' scrawled on a small piece of paper. I like to _think_ it came from Mum, but I think Dad made it because he didn't want me to hate Mum."

"You don't hate your mum?"

Blaise thought about that. "I… don't," he said, surprised at it. "I even love her. Well, sort if. Not as much like a mother than as a hardly-there aunt. I hate what she did to me, how she treated me, but I don't really hate her. She's done some good, like June, who isn't like her or Lil at _all_."

"What's June li-" Hermione started to ask, before someone knocked on the portrait rather heavily. Blaise started to get up, but she waved him away, and went to answer the call. "Who is it?" she called.

"Lilithe Sererotti," came the muffled voice.

Hermione jerked a bit, and half-turned to look at Blaise. He shrugged, and nodded. Nodding back at him, she opened the portrait.

Lilithe swept into the room and walked over to Blaise, standing imposingly over him as if expecting him to stand up. He looked at her from his position on the sofa and waved at the other seats. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, smiling with a sarcastic twinge to it.

Lilithe pursed her lips and sat on a Hufflepuff couch to the left of his sofa. "Why--" she started.

"Wait a minute, sister _dear_," he interrupted her. "Hermione, come over and sit down, please." Lilithe turned and narrowed her eyes slightly at Hermione.

Hermione felt a prickling feeling on the back of her neck, that creeped up until it disappeared into her head, and carefully thought about her upcoming Potions test. When the feeling receded, she moved over to sit on the Gryffindor couch and Blaise shook his head a bit and motioned for her to sit beside him.

As she sat down beside him, he whispered in her ear while Lilithe was occupied, "Hermione, hold my hand if you don't want her to read your mind. The physical contact will let the charm flow to you. It's your choice, though. Be careful of what you think."

Hermione quickly took a hold of his right hand, and felt a slight tingling flow through her before it settled down.

"May I continue _now_?" Lilithe said, voice icy.

"Please do," Blaise replied, face almost blank, except for a snide twist of his mouth.

"What I was going to say," Lilithe continued, "was, why didn't you come and speak to me? You _know_ I wanted you to. You _purposefully_ ignored my looks and went off with that delinquent Malfoy boy instead of speaking to me, your _family_."

"Draco," he said, "is no more of a delinquent than _you_ are, Miss Cow-Tipper." Lilithe flushed angrily. "And he is, in fact, family through _Dad's_ grandfather's sister, who married Narcissa Malfoy's grandfather. And, yes, I did ignore you to go and play Exploding Snap in the Slytherin common room, _as is my right_ as a student and _Head Boy_ of _Hogwarts_." Hermione could tell he had touched a nerve in his sister, by the slight maroon that was shading her cheeks.

"Mum and Dad didn't let me go to Hogwarts because-"

"Correction: _mum_ didn't let you go to Hogwarts. Do go on with your pitiful justification," he said smoothly.

"Because," ground out Lilithe, "they wouldn't have understood a special child like me here."

Blaise disguised his laughter with a racking cough. "Ha. There's special, and then there's 'special,'" he said. "You fall into the _second_ category, which puts you in as a _freak_."

Hermione stared at the two siblings sitting beside and across from her. They were going for each other's jugulars.

"You're just mad because Mum took _me_ and _June_ with her on trips and not you and- and- _her_!" Lilithe spat back at her younger brother.

"And you," Blaise retaliated, standing up and pulling Hermione along with him, "are a _freak_ who is a complete _bitch_! How your children can stand you is _beyond _me!"

They glared at one another for barely a moment before Lilithe responded, "Oh, that's lovely, Blaise. Why don't you tell me how you _really_ feel?"

"You want to know what I feel about you?" he yelled, advancing on her.

"Yes!" she yelled back.

"I HATE YOU! I've _always_ hated you! I hate the way you're a stuck-up, spoiled, pompous, _BITCH_! I hate how you treated Zel and me! I hate the way you SUCKED UP to Mum! And how you always PUT DOWN Dad! I hate how, no matter how hard we tried, you always looked down your ugly, wide nose at Dad, Zel and me! And," he said, taking a breath, "I hate how you lorded everything over us. 'Oh, Blaisey-poo,'" he said, mimicking her voice rather badly, "'I'm going to _Rome_! You want to come? Well, you _can't_!'" He stood, seething, at her, pale skin red with the blood that had rushed to his head.

Lilithe stood in silence. She had clearly not expected him to respond that way. "Well," she said, picking up a package she had put on the couch next to her, "I had no idea you felt that way."

"How," Blaise said, still seeing red, "could you even _think_ that I could _love_, or even _like,_ you after all of my childhood spent being mocked by you and put down by you? Are you that _stupid_?"

"I suppose," Lilithe said, "I didn't think you would care. Here. Dad sent this to you. Too heavy for owls, he said. Have a nice life Blaise. I'll see you at the lectures, if I decide to stay." She walked past them and left the living room.

As soon as the portrait closed, Blaise sat down heavily on the Slytherin sofa. He rested his head on one hand, looking shocked. "I can't believe I said all of that," he said.

"It was rather, erm, forceful," Hermione said, trying to be tactful.

"Sorry to pull you into it," he said. "I didn't know that Lil and I would get so… honest, I suppose." He laughed a short and jerky laugh. "Actually, if I think about it, that's the first honest exchange of dialogue I've had with Lil since I asked her if she wanted any toast this summer and she said no."

"Wow," Hermione said. Realizing she still held his finger, she let go quickly.

"I know." He sighed and propped his feet up on the table. He looked at the package that lay on the table. "I wonder what Dad sent me," he said. Leaning over, he grabbed it. On top was a letter. Blaise opened it and read it aloud.

"_Dear Blaise, _

_Congratulations on being Head Boy. I'm sorry to have missed that tidbit; I was far too wrapped up in the Blocking Charm research. However, the research paid off. I'm having Lil (don't scowl) deliver this package, as, I'm sure she told you; it was too heavy for owls. I actually sent it with her because it's too valuable to be sent by owl. No, it's not a new broomstick. That's a Christmas or birthday present. _

_But, before I tell you what it is, I'm going to ask you a few things. Firstly, is the Head Girl cute? Or, rather, do _you_ think she's cute? Also, is the charm working? How's Zel? And Eduardo? Are you working hard on your grades? Good. _

_Now on to my gift. This is a small package of rings enchanted with the Blocking Charm. I've put about fifteen in, give them to your friends, and please send a few to Zel and Eddie (my new nickname for Eduardo) because L. is continuing on her lecturing tour and her next stop is Zel's college the Vienna School of W. & W. _

_Please use these wisely. _

_All my love, _

_Dad_"

Blaise coughed. "Sorry, he's a bit out there sometimes," he said, motioning vaguely. "He likes to be 'hip with the A-crowd' or something like that."

"I think it's funny," Hermione said. "So. Am I?"

"Are you what?" Blaise asked, confused.

"Am I cute? Are you going to tell your dad I'm cute, or what?" Hermione smiled at him, plainly amused.

Blaise's cheeks, which had gone back to being a cream color, turned reddish. "Er," he said, looking away from her. "YesIthinkyou'recute," he said, all in a rush. "AndI'mgoingtotellmydadthat."

Hermione thought for a moment until she translated what he had said. "That's very sweet of you, Blaise," she said. "Thanks." She patted his shoulder and went back to her room.

Blaise sat, and blinked for several minutes. Walking back to his room, he muttered, "I can't believe I said that."

He put his pajamas on and sat on his bed, thinking.

"_YesIthinkyou'recute." _

"_AndI'mgoingtotellmydadthat."_

With his head cradled in his arms, he moaned, "I really can't believe I told her that!" Getting underneath the sheets, he thought, '_I owe Draco ten Galleons. There goes my bet that I wouldn't think the Head Girl was cute._'

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**A/N:** Good Lord, that was a fight. ::grin:: What'd you think? It took me a while to write it, and had to call on some bad sibling fights I've had, but eventually it came out. For future updates, check the note in eight, and please review!!!!!


	10. A Fortunate Discovery

**12/06/04 **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it, except for copies of the books and movies.

**A/N:** Mwahahahaha… I return! Here's chapter ten, I'll submit eleven and twelve when I get them and fifteen is finished. I'm working on thirteen, so never fear! I hope you enjoy, and HUGE thanks to my beta, James, for looking it over, and to all my friends who read it!

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Ten

Thunder boomed ominously as Blaise stared at a piece of parchment, trying to think of what he wanted to write to his father. Inspiration struck him and he scribbled down what he thought of first.

_Dear Dad, _

_Thanks for the letter. And for the rings. I've given Draco two, one for him, and one for his girlfriend, Ginny. I've also given the Head Girl, Hermione Granger, three. One is for her and the other two are for her friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. I will send some to Zel and Eduardo, as you asked. _

_Oh, and thank you _so much_ for asking if Hermione was cute. I just _happened_ to be reading it out loud to her, as Lil had just been there and we had had an 'incident.' _

_The charm is working very well. Zel and Eduardo are Expecting, don't tell Mum, and yes, I'm working hard on my grades. So far mostly A's and O's. _

_Have a nice holiday in Greece, Dad. Say hello to Uncle Louis for me. _

_Love, _

_Blaise_

Reading it over, he grimaced and crumpled up the paper, throwing it into the fireplace. He got out another sheet and began to write another letter.

_Dad. _

_This won't come as a shock to you, but you should probably sit down and burn the letter once you've finished with it. Are you sitting? Good. Lilithe and I got into another fight. This time it was in front of the Head Girl, Hermione Granger. I admit that I said some things that should have remained unsaid, but so did she. I wanted to tell you before Lil tells Mum and Mum screams at you for it. _

_Thanks for the rings. I'm going to give some to Granger for her and her friends, and some to Draco, Theo and Millie. I'll send some to Zel and Eduardo. On the subject of Zel: she's pregnant. Don't tell Mum. _

_I've been doing all right on my grades. Mostly A's or O's. Have fun in Greece, Dad. I'll see you over the holidays. _

_Love, _

Blaise 

Blaise sat back in his desk chair and put some powder onto his letter, drying the ink. He looked it over and folded it up, sliding it into a pre-addressed envelope. He whistled to his owl, and tied the letter onto its leg. The owl hooted at him and flew out the open window.

Suddenly, he shoved away from his desk and stormed out of his room. He walked across the living room and went right into Hermione's room without knocking.

She was lying down on her bed, reading when he burst in. Luckily, she was wearing her bathrobe over her pajamas. He, however, was in his customary pajamas: a pair of bottoms.

He walked over to her bed and stared down at her. "You don't think I'm a horrible person, do you?" he asked.

"Why would I?" she replied, placing her book beside her.

"Because of Lil. Because of the fight. Because of everything, I guess." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, nervous.

"Well," Hermione began slowly, "I don't think that you should've yelled at your sister like that. I don't know her, but it isn't that polite to yell like that at people. I'm not sure she didn't deserve it, but maybe you shouldn't have, erm, voiced your opinion like you did."

"Oh." Blaise glanced around her room. Books, quills, and scraps of parchment were scattered around on various flat surfaces. Half-written reminders, class notes, and letters were stacked on her desk. "So, you have a lot of parchment," he said.

"Yeah, I take notes on a lot of things. I was studying earlier, and I'm going to tidy up tomorrow."

"Procrastination, Gryff?" Blaise said, amused.

"It's not procrastination!" Hermione protested, becoming slightly defensive. "I just don't feel like picking up right now."

"Oh," Blaise said, moving over to a particularly high stack of papers. "So, I suppose if I was to, say, move several sheets from the _middle_ of one stack to the bottom of another, it wouldn't matter?"

Hermione sat up, glaring at him. "Don't. You. Dare," she seethed.

Blaise lifted a small pile of papers from the top of the right stack and integrated them into the middle of the left stack.

Hermione pursed her lips and got out of bed. "Blaise Zabini," she said shortly, "you have crossed the line. Gone beyond what Harry and Ron have done over the years. Get out of my room before I hurt you."

"No," Blaise said, leaning against her desk. "I think I'll stay right here, and annoy you."

She stalked over to him and raised her hand, as if to slap him, when someone knocked on the portrait. "Saved by a knocker," she said, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

Blaise rolled his eyes and followed her to the portrait. Hermione stretched her hand out and pushed the portrait open.

Lilithe stood there, drenched. Her eyes were narrowed, and her lips tightly pinched together.

"Oh, shit," Blaise muttered. Louder he said, "Look, Lil, you don't have to-"

"Shut up, Blaise," muttered Hermione, voice wavering as she backed up. "I don't think she's in the mood."

"Listen to your co-Head, Blaise," Lilithe said, moving towards them, eyes not leaving Blaise's. "You'll be conscious longer."

"Lil, really," Blaise said, mind racing. "Are you thinking straight? Has the storm addled your brain? This is _Hogwarts_, Lil. Home to _Albus Dumbledore_. Ever read the Muggle books, _The Chronicles of Chrestomanci_?" Lilithe's eyes narrowed even further. "I didn't think so," Blaise went on quickly. Well, in these books, Chrestomanci is called whenever someone says his name."

"Your point?" Lilithe said, her wand trained on him.

"I have a theory that the same applies to Dumbledore," he said, shaking a bit. Blaise had backed against the wall and something was digging into his back. A doorknob! He felt behind him frantically, trying to open it. It was stuck. He shoved as hard as him could, watching Lilithe begin to hiss an incantation. Just as she was almost finished, the door swung open behind him, and he fell through the doorway. Hermione, who had been beside him, fell on top of him. He wriggled out from underneath her and scrambled back as Lilithe brought her wand down in a sudden arm motion.

The spell, which was obviously nefarious in cause, didn't come through the doorway. It hit an invisible barrier and dissolved in a small bright green cloud of smoke.

"Good Gog," Blaise said. Lilithe looked furious.

"What the _hell_?!" she exclaimed. "I call on nature, invoke favors, sift through people's minds, and the spell I use _bloody_ evaporates!"

"It may be on account of where we are," Hermione said, tapping Blaise's shoulder. He looked up and inhaled sharply.

The ceiling above them was a dome, and, on further inspection of the room, they were in a rotunda. The dome was in eight sections, alternating paintings and inlays of griffins. The paintings all featured one man: A tall, rustic man with dark hair, dressed in deep blood red and a sunny yellow, except for his boots, which were black. In one painting, he was fighting a dragon; in another, quelling a goblin revolt of some nature; in a third, he was building some sort of tower; in the forth he was surrounded by laughing, smiling children, with his hand on one child who looked somewhat like him, though his face looked sad and the smile on his face did not reach his eyes.

"Where are you?" Lilithe said, standing just outside the doorway, peering in. "I can't see anything! Come out here right now, Blaise!"

Blaise, staring at the painting of the sad man, yelled back, "Bugger off Lil!" After he said that, the door swung shut, cutting off any remark his sister would make. "Damn Lil and her damned rage that makes her fucking retaliate."

The portrait, which wasn't magical, was of a broadly grinning Godric—the man in the dome's paintings—with his arm around a tall woman with long red hair. She was pale and thin, with deep, sparkling blue eyes and rosy pink lips and high cheekbones. In her cupped hands was a crystal ball shining brightly, a miniature star. Clutching her robes was an unsteady toddler, with eyes like his mother, but in everything else resembling his father. His unkempt hair was black, and he was staring Hermione, or so it seemed.

"It's his family," Hermione said breathily. "I read about them. He was married and had one son—Lionel. His wife's name was Lesta. She was a Seer. She was killed, but _Hogwarts, A History_ isn't that clear just on how."

"I think it's time to bring in the Calvary," Blaise said, leaning against a note-strewn table.

"What d'you mean?"

"Tomorrow we get out of classes early," Blaise said.

"How d'you know?" Hermione inquired.

"It's the second Monday of the month. Double Potions with Gryffindor is last period and Snape always disappears somewhere in between fourth and fifth—the last class—leaving his seventh-years with a Potions assignment due that Friday. Haven't you noticed?"

"No," Hermione said, surprised that she hadn't. "But what do you mean 'bring in the Calvary'?"

"I mean," Blaise said, "we get our friends in, however much we find them…distasteful to one another, and we investigate. I only need Draco. You'll need Potter and Weasley. Can't separate a brain, you know." He grinned at her frowning face. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't resist. See you." He turned towards the door.

"How d'you know your sister isn't out there?" Hermione called after him, eye transfixed on the portrait.

"Well, let's see." He opened the door and poked his head out. "Oh, look at this. She's gone back to whatever hellhole she crawled out of. I'm off to bed. G'night."

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**A/N:** ::grin:: The evil author of cliffies and suspense strikes again! Thanks for reading, please review!!!!


	11. Mystery Solved

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Well, I've _finally_ updated. Sorry for the delay, but I really had to work on some things with TAD/OCS on so I've been Absent from the updating department. Sorry! This is a really good chapter, and you find something very amusing out. Have fun, and please review! End notes at the bottom of thirteen!

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Eleven

"I can't believe I'm giving up my free time to help you and _Granger_ investigate sodding _Gryffindor's_ 'private place,'" Draco Malfoy complained to Blaise as he walked with him, behind Hermione, Ron and Harry.

"Shut it, Draco," Blaise said good-humoredly. "We both know you're as curious as a cat."

Up ahead, Ron was complaining to Hermione about working with _Malfoy_, of all people.

"It's bad enough that we've got to work with Zabini," Ron grumbled, "but _Malfoy_? I mean, _really_, Hermione. You expect us to work with him?"

"Ron, you'll work with him if I have to cast a Silencing spell on you," Hermione said primly. As the neared the Founder's portrait, she shushed him. "Hello. Godric," she said, smiling. "Can you let us in?"

"With all these people?" Godric asked, eying them. "I recognize the redhead and the blonde, but what about the one with black hair?"

"Really, Godric," Helga said softly. "That's the Potter boy. Beatrice was here earlier telling us all about him, remember?"

When Helga said 'Potter,' Godric's face softened, and he nodded. "Oh, well," he said, leaning back in the portrait chair, "you can go on in."

The portrait swung open. "What was that about?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione.

Blaise and Draco swept past them. "I have no clue, Potter," Draco said. Standing inside the doorway, he turned to look at them, a mocking smirk on his lips. "Are you coming or going?"

"Come on," Hermione said, dragging Harry and Ron into the room. "You'll love it."

₤₤₤₤₤

"Her-mi-oh-neeee," Ron whined. "We've been doing this for _hours_. Can we take a break?"

Hermione looked up from a book, head propped on her fist, and sighed. "Fine. Ron, you and Harry can leave. I'll finish on my own."

"Thanks, 'Mione!" Ron said, grinning at Harry as they practically leapt from the table. "See you!" he called over his shoulder.

Draco sat back in his chair, staring at Blaise.

Blaise didn't even look up. "Get out Draco," he said. "If not, you'll drive me batty."

"Yes!" Draco said, jumping up and pumping his fist in the air. "I'm late," he yelped, looking at his watch. He ran out of the room and they heard the portrait close with a crash.

"You're friends until you ask them to research with you," Hermione said, flipping through a book.

"I hear that," Blaise said dryly. Hermione looked up at him. "In fifth year, when I was studying for the O.W.L.'s, I asked Millie and Theo to study with me and they came up with all these crazy excuses to get out of it." He shook his head. "When you're a mix of Slytherin and Ravenclaw, it's annoying. Eventually, I used my cunning to 'achieve my end,' according to the Sorting Hat."

"'Achieve your end'?" Hermione asked.

"I tricked them into studying with me," Blaise said, grinning. "It had something to do with chocolate, pumpkin juice and Quidditch. You probably don't want to know the details." He was sorting through a book titled '_Livre de Mémoire_.' "Hermione look!" he exclaimed. She quickly made her way around the table to read what he indicated.

_Rowena finally finished the spell. We'll cast the primary anchor in the rose garden, and then in one other object. We're putting it in two parts so that if the roses, which are rather obvious, I believe, were discovered and destroyed, which a skilled witch or wizard could do, the spell would go on until the right people came along to restructure it. I suggested the secondary piece. I felt that it was… right, somehow. That she would want it that way. I've put a clue in this room, an obvious one to the observing mind, so that the Maintainers will find it._

_If you are reading this, it's in this room. Good luck._

"That evil sod," Blaise said admiringly. Hermione frowned at him.

"Don't insult my House's Founder," she said. "And don't swear!"

"That dodgy old bastard," Blaise continued, ignoring her. "He's put us in a right spot, I can tell you. 'It's in this room.' Bloody clear and helpful, it is." He jammed a cork into an inkbottle and glared at the book.

"Blaise!" Hermione said, scolding. "Really!"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Hermione," he said, sighing and standing, "I'm going to bed. Please badger me in the morning." He saluted her and left the room.

Hermione turned around and looked at the portrait of Godric, his arm around his wife, and his son clutching his mother's dress. "Where is it, Godric?" she asked tiredly. "Where did you hide it?" After a moment of silence, she shook her head and left the room. As she closed the door, a faint glimmer caught her eye. She poked her head back into the room, but nothing sparkled again.

₤₤₤₤₤

"_Agh_!" Hermione said, slamming a book closed. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. "I have to find this before Christmas."

Blaise leaned in the doorway of Gryffindor's private office. "You've been working at this for _three weeks_, Gryff," he said. "Give it up, you're not going to find that clue before you go home for the holidays. You've got to leave tomorrow, remember?"

"I _will_ find it," Hermione muttered. It had become a common mantra. "If you don't want to help me, I'll do it on my own." She delved back into her searching.

Blaise sighed and went back into the living room, put on a MMD and laid down.

Blaise rolled his eyes as he started to think.

'_She said she saw a glimmer from the corner of her eye as she was leaving the room,'_ he thought.

He got up and went over to the door. Acting out what Hermione said she had done, he looked to his right. The crystal ball in Lesta Gryffindor's hands glimmered at him. "Oh, my God," he muttered. "Hermione!" he yelled, excited, running over to her. "Hermione!" She looked up from the book she was reading. "Hermione, it's in the portrait!" he said, jiggling with excitement. "The clue! It's in the portrait!"

"What?" Hermione said, bewildered. "It's _where_?"

"In the portrait," Blaise said, rushing past her and going to the portrait. There wasn't anything in it but the three people. And the crystal ball. "The crystal ball!" he cried. "Of course!" He whirled around, and looked, slightly wildly, at Hermione. Frantically, he said, "Where'd he put Lesta's crystal ball?"

Hermione blinked and walked slowly to a cabinet. "_Alohomora_," she said, flicking her wand at the locks. The door swung open, and she reached and picked up a cantaloupe-sized crystal ball. Something smoky inside it swirled around and grew larger. Her hands were tingly from holding it.

"I think this is it," she said, eyes wide and a huge smile on her face. "I should… pack." She thrust it at him. "Here, you hold it." Blaise took it, looking at her, curious. He heard her door shut and then excited squeals erupted from her room.

Blaise eyed the sphere uncomfortably. "Don't do anything," he warned it, in case it could understand him. "No funny stuff." Walking quietly out of the room and through the living room, he peeked into Hermione's room to see her doing a happy dance, throwing clothes into her trunk, grinning like an idiot. Blaise laughed softly and took the ball into his room while he packed for his trip home for the holidays.

Midway through packing, someone came into the living room. When he poked his head out the door, he saw that it was Dumbledore.

"Hello Headmaster," Blaise said, smiling. '_What the heck is he doing here?_' he thought frantically.

"Headmaster," Hermione said, coming out of her room and tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. "How are you?"

"Mr. Zabini, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said, smiling, his eyes a bit somber. "I'm here to relate some news to Ms. Granger. No, Mr. Zabini, it involves you, too," he added as Blaise turned to go back into his room. "If you would please sit down?" He motioned to the Ravenclaw couch and they sat, with him across from them on the Hufflepuff couch.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore began. "It appears that Voldemort-" Blaise suppressed a shiver, "-has gotten wind of what you and Mr. Zabini are doing in the Founder's chambers. I fear that he will try to kidnap you over the holidays."

"Oh, my," Hermione said, eyes wide. "Then I'll just stay here, professor. If you think it's best."

"No, you cannot stay here," Dumbledore said. "I've arranged with a friend of mine for you to stay with him and his family over the holidays. You see, he is a very good historian and has a very large library that I think will serve you well with your research on your… project."

"Headmaster," Blaise started, confused, "I can see how this pertains to Hermione, but what does where Hermione's going for Christmas to do with me?"

Dumbledore's eye became less somber and twinkles entered them again. "The historian is Zachary Zabini, Mr. Zabini. Your father, I believe."

Blaise blinked at Dumbledore. A hoarse croak came out of his mouth that faintly sounded like 'Oh, shit.'

"Not really, Mr. Zabini," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I think you'll find it enjoyable. I've notified your father and Ms. Granger's parents. Happy holidays, I'll see you on the second of January." Then he stood and walked out, leaving two stunned teenagers behind him.

₤₤₤₤₤

"I don't see why you have to go with him," Ron grumbled as he hoisted his trunk into the Hogwarts Express. "Why can't Dumbledore just let you spend the holidays at the Order, like Harry and me?"

"Because he wants me and Blaise to work on our 'project,'" Hermione said, following suit. "Oof! And I think it'll be interesting to see where he lives. And to meet his family."

Harry put an arm around her shoulders. "Well, if you need anything, send a letter or Floo to the Order," he said.

"Harry, it's not like I'm going to be there _forever_," she said, exasperated. "Just three weeks! It'll be over before you know it."

Hermione sat with Harry and Ron, chatting about Quidditch, the Order, school and what they wanted for Christmas during the train ride. As they entered the station, Blaise showed up to take her trunk and lead her out onto the platform.

"Wait a minute, Blaise," she said. She turned to Harry and Ron and hugged them. "See you!" And then she followed him to an old Rolls Royce parked outside of King's Cross. "You have a car?" she asked, amazed. "But wizards-"

"Call us unconventional purebloods," Blaise said. "We also have a butler. It's not quite the thing to have a House-Elf drive one all around Creation. Wiggin!" Blaise grinned at the middle-aged man who opened the car door for them. "Nice to see you. This is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Wiggin, an old friend and butler to the stars."

Wiggin laughed. "Always the joker, Mr. Zabini," he said kindly. "Please, get in." As they got into the back seat of the old style limousine, Wiggin put their trunks into the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. As the car moved away from the curb, Blaise rolled up the window in between them and Wiggin.

"All right," he said, fingers twitching. "There are a few things about the holidays at my house you should know. One, lots of House-Elves, so _please_ don't talk about S.P.E.W. around my family, particularly my mother. You're entitled to your own opinion, but please don't voice it. Then at least we'll have a little bit of peace.

"Secondly, my entire family is there. Immediate family, that is. Lilithe and Roberto and their two children, Zel and Eduardo, June and whomever she brings home, Dad, Mum, and me. And, now, you." He took a breath. "It will be hectic. Chances are you'll hear screaming matches between a child and his or her parent or in-law at the very least three times. Last year the family had a record of fourteen fights in one hour. It wasn't pretty. Thankfully, the next day we all went back to school, back to Italy, Vienna, or on a business trip, so the House-Elves had peace when cleaning up our mess.

"Thirdly, please do not bring up current events. Voldemort-" he shuddered slightly, "-is a touchy subject that is Forbidden." Ticking things off his fingers, he remembered something suddenly. "Ah, and fourthly, don't get in between people in a fight. Then you'll either be A, sucked in, B, cursed, or, my favorite, C, and banished to your room for the rest of the hols."

"Why is that your favorite?" Hermione asked.

"So that I don't fight with people," he said simply. The car pulled up to steps leading to a large, old stone manor. "Ah, here we are. Let's go, Gryff."

"'As I walk into the valley of the shadow of Death I shall fear no evil,'" Hermione quoted as she climbed out of the car after Blaise.

"Ha, ha," he said dryly. "Trust me, the valley of the shadow of Death would be _much_ better than Zabini Manor at Christmas."

Hermione blinked at him; his face was completely blank. Then it split into a grin. "Don't worry, Gryff," he said. "I'll protect you." He motioned her onward and they climbed up the stairs. The front door opened before they had reached it. "Tylen!" he cried, looking at a three-foot-tall House-Elf with a fire-poker-like nose.

"Sir is back from school?" Tylen said, voice squeaky. "And sir brought a miss with him?"

"Yes, Tylen, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Tylen, my old nanny and now doorkeeper and tidier of my room," Blaise said.

"Blaise!" cried a female voice from a doorway behind them. Blaise and Hermione turned to see a medium sized woman with curly black hair like Blaise's, but her eyes were a gold-tinted green. "Blaise! You're home already!" She ran over and hugged him, and he hugged her back. They chattered in Italian for a minute before Blaise said something that made her revert to English.

"And who is this?" the woman asked, looking at Hermione approvingly. "Did you _finally_ get yourself a girlfriend, Blaise?"

"Zel," Blaise said, embarrassed, "this is Hermione Granger. We're here to research a project."

Zel's eyebrows went up. "And I suppose that, if you didn't have this 'project, you would be back at Hogwarts with all of your 'delinquent' friends?"

Blaise groaned. "Lil's here?"

"She was. She went back to Naples to get Roberto, Elena and Jack. They'll be back by Wednesday, at the latest. Now, dear Blaise, you _must_ introduce me to your young lady," Zel insisted.

Blaise sighed. "She's not _my_ young lady, Zel," he said, halfheartedly. "Zelphinia Caruzo, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Zel."

"BLAISE!" echoed a commanding female voice from the top of the sweeping staircase to their left.

Blaise groaned again and turned. "Hello, Mum."


	12. The Zabinis

Twelve

"Hello, Mum," Blaise said, fighting the urge to run to his right, and to the West Wing, where his rooms were. But he couldn't leave Hermione to fend for herself.

"Blaise," Frances Zabini said, "explain yourself."

"About what, Mum?" he asked, edging towards the hallway door and making sure Hermione was doing the same.

"About your public fight with your sister," Frances said, voice steely.

"Mum," Zel put in, "Blaise's only just gotten home. Perhaps you should talk to him another time?"

Frances eyed her for a moment. "Very good, Zelphinia. I believe that's a good idea. I shall inform the House-Elves what we're to have for tea." And she swept away from their vision, presumably to the kitchens.

Blaise looked goggle-eyed at his sister. "She- She actually _listened_ to you!" he said, amazed. "How-"

Zel cut him off, laughing. "When one announces that one is pregnant over breakfast, then one gets a few liberties with one's mother," she said. "Now, let's get you two into your chambers. I'm sure Hermione is tired of hearing all of our idle chatter and budding arguments."

Zel lead them through the hallway on their right and up the flight of stairs at its end. They climbed for three flights, finally stopping on the third floor of the West Wing. At this point Blaise took over, walking quickly to the last door at the end of the hall and opening it gleefully.

"My room," he said, sighing at the sight. "And," he turned to a door to the right of his, "I believe that this will be your room while you're here, Hermione. Right, Zel?"

"Excellent guess, little brother," his sister said, smiling. "I'll leave you two alone to unpack and relax now. Blaise, tea is at four. Don't be late; I can only cover for about fifteen minutes. When I have another kid, maybe I'll reach twenty, but I'm trying to not over exceed my limit." She turned and walked back down the hall.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked.

"It means that Zel's only got so much 'Mum credit,' which is when you've done something Mum likes, and she lets you persuade her of things. Such as not yelling at me in front of my guest. That sort of thing, though Lilithe can pretty much get away with whatever she wants." He opened the door to Hermione's room. "I'm going to unpack, and you should, too. When you're done, come on over to my room and we'll look at whatever my father's left there for us." He disappeared into his room, and Hermione walked into hers.

The room was large, about a fourth larger than her room at Hogwarts. The bed was big enough to fit about five of her, and was raised three feet off the ground on a large bedstead. Everything was in varying shades of pink, with touches of white and lilac. The duvet on the bed was a pattern of pink climbing roses on a white background, and there were matching curtains on the windows and around the bed. The vanity was entirely white, with a lilac chair in front of it. The wardrobe was wood, stained a whitewashed sand color and took up a third of the wall. The large picture window had a window seat with back and seat cushions that were pink.

Hermione smiled and went to her trunk, which was placed at the end of the gargantuan bed. Opening it, she started to unpack. By the time she finished, it was 3:50 and she went to knock on Blaise's door.

"Come in," he called. She opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind her.

"Wow, Blaise," she said. "Your room is… wow," Hermione breathed, looking around.

Blaise's room was twice the size of hers. One half was bedroom, the other a mini library. The bookshelves, which were up to the fifteen-foot-high ceiling, were covered in books, with books stacked on top of each other. There was a large mahogany table that had books and paper strewn on it and three upholstered oversized chairs with throw blankets on them in the "library" half. The "bedroom" half it was surprisingly blood red, with silver and sapphire thrown around. His mahogany sleigh bed was covered in a patchwork velvet quilt, with red, sapphire, silver, yellow, green, and white squares on it. Hermione noticed that all of his furniture was wood, and all of it was either mahogany or stained a dark chocolate color.

Blaise noticed her looking at his bed. "It's made from old clothes," he said, startling Hermione. "The quilt, I mean. It's made from clothes that the Zabinis of old wore. The white square in the middle was my fourteen-times great-grandmother's wedding dress. She started the quilt and handed it down to her daughter-in-law and it was finished by my grandmother when she sewed on my christening patch." He pointed out another white square, on the upper right corner. "Nobody else wanted it, so I got it when Grandmamma died. She had it specially marked out in her will and sent posthumously from France."

"From France?"

"Yeah," Blaise said. "'Blaise' is French, but 'Zabini' is Italian. My Mum's family is French, and my dad's family lived in Italy before moving to France for a few generations and then they moved to England. Grandmamma moved back to France before Voldemort's first rising, I think. That's what Dad says, anyway." He glanced at the wall clock. "Oh, shit. We're late. C'mon, Hermione, time to meet my family." He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the door. Halfway down the hall, he opened the laundry chute. "Jump in."

"There's no way I am jumping into a laundry chute." Hermione said, eying it with distaste.

"It's the only way we'll make it on time," Blaise said, agitated. "I'll go first, so if anything goes wrong, you'll land on me. How's that?"

"Okay," she said slowly.

"Peachy." He jumped in and she followed, whizzing down at an astonishing rate. "Start breaking now!" he yelled up to her.

"How do I do that?" she yelled back.

"Put your feet up against the sides!" he replied, as if it were obvious. She complied, and a few moments later, he climbed out of a hole in the chute and reached an arm in to help her out. Once she was out and dusting her robes, he grinned. "Wasn't that fun, now?"

Hermione glared at him. "Never again, unless we're late. Only then. Otherwise, we're taking the long way 'round."

"Fine by me," he said. "Now, if you'll give me your arm, I'll take you in to tea." She tucked her arm into his and he spoke again, "'For yea though I walk through'—or in this case, into—'the valley of the shadow of Death, I will fear no evil…'" Hermione shoved him, and he laughed. "I would buy a crucifix if I were you," he warned. "We can be awful over tea, though usually only when Lil's here. Thankfully it's only Zel, June and me. Plus whatever miscreant June's brought back."

"Master Blaise and Miss Hermione," squeaked a House-Elf as they walked into the parlor.

It was about half the size of the Gryffindor common room and looked almost as comfortable, though slightly foreboding. It was furnished in the Victorian style, but all of the chairs were overstuffed and looked bouncy. The family was sitting around a fireplace, with two men and Zel on the left of it, and Frances, a young lady and a young man on the right. Blaise nodded at Hermione before walking over to them.

"Dad," he said, grinning widely and hugging a man who looked like a much older version of him. "How are you?"

Zachary Zabini smiled, emphasizing deep laugh lines around his eyes. "Blaise," he said, deep voice affected a bit with emotion, equal parts of happiness and relief, "I'm fine. And are you going to acquaint us with your friend?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Blaise said, in a rush. "Eduardo, Dad, June and, er-"

"-Luc," said the young lady, who must've been June.

"-er, Luc," Blaise continued, eying the Frenchman suspiciously, "this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is my family."

Zachary stepped forward. "It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Granger. Albus has spoken very highly of you. I understand you're the top in your class."

"Yes," Hermione said, blushing with embarrassment, "I am. Blaise has nothing to say but good about you, Mr. Zabini."

A tall man, who had been sitting next to Zachary, stood up. He had a very prominent nose, and looked entirely Italian with wavy dark hair and dark eyes. "It is very nice to meet you, Hermione," he said, carefully pronouncing each word, obviously relatively new to the English language. "I am Eduardo Caruzzo, Zel's husband."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Caruzzo," Hermione replied. "I'm a friend of Blaise's from school."

"Please, call me Eduardo-" he began, before June cut in.

"So _you're_ Hermione," June said, standing up and moving over to talk to her. "You're all the rage I hear." She grinned and elbowed her older brother, who flushed. June was of medium height, not taller than Hermione, and had her father's thick and wavy black hair. Her eyes were completely different, however, being different from all of her siblings, as they were amber flecked light brown. She had very light skin, and it looked well with her dark hair and light eyes. She was wearing a pair of cream robes with maroon embroidery. "Thanks for helping Blaise with buying the chocolate at Honeyduke's, as it's really good. I shared some with Luc and he made me bring him back for the hols." She laughed and smiled at her companion.

Luc was about Blaise's height, with honey-colored blonde hair. He had crystal blue eyes and a beautiful smile, seemingly reserved for June.

"So, June," Blaise said, fixing his sister with a look, "new boyfriend?"

"He's just a _friend_, Blaise," June said crabbily. "Like Hermione is to you."

"I'm sure," Blaise muttered. He continued to eye his sister suspiciously throughout tea, though.

Hermione and Blaise sat next to Zel and waited for a House-Elf to serve them. Blaise could tell Hermione wanted to cry out against such inhumane slavery, but thanked God that she kept her mouth shut in the presence of his volatile-tempered mother.

As tea almost finished, he could tell that she was about to explode. He quickly looked around and found the teapot.

"More tea, Hermione?" he offered, practically shoving the pot underneath her nose. Her social justice outrage cooled visibly, and her shoulders relaxed, leaving her much calmer.

Fifteen minutes later, a gong sounded, and the Zabini's scattered from the parlor like wildfire, leaving Hermione and Blaise sitting there, Blaise making sure that she didn't completely lose it in front of his mother.

"That… was hard," Hermione said. "I never thought you could have so much tension in a room before."

"Wait until Lil comes back with Roberto and the kids," Blaise said dryly, "and then you won't be able to cut the tension with anything but a chainsaw."

"Oh, dear."

"You're telling me," Blaise said grimly.

"And you live through this every summer?" Hermione said, slightly horrified.

"Well, sometimes Mum isn't here and it's just June, Dad and me. Last summer I spent it in Vienna, with Zel and Eduardo. That was really fun. Two years ago I was forced—along with June, who didn't mind as much—to go to," he shuddered in memory of it, "Lil's house for summer vacation."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Well," he said, leading her through a corridor, "Mum and Dad both had business trips and Zel was in a work-and-study program in Egypt—she's going to be a Curse Breaker with Eduardo in Russia. Surprisingly, there are a lot of old, cursed things left over from the Mongol invasion all that time ago." Blaise shook his head. "Mongols wizards were nasty, apparently. Worse than the Egyptian wizards, by all account."

"Really?" Hermione said, fascinated. "How?"

"Oh, booby traps that would cause non-Mongols to become man-eating camels, ones that would blow non-Mongols up, that sort of thing," Blaise said. "Ah, look, we're here."

"Whe-" Hermione started, then she looked out the open door that was in front of her. "Wow."

It was a beautiful garden, with roses, daisies and hydrangeas. Pavilions were scattered around the area, and a few House-Elves were pruning back plants.

Hermione stared, gaping for a moment. "But, Blaise, it's _December_," she said. "How can all of these flowers be in bloom?"

"Look up," Blaise said, pointing.

A large magical dome encompassed the garden, and the snow that was falling simply slid down its sides, causing huge drifts around the dome. It shone a bit, and glittered when the sun touched it, but was otherwise translucent.

Blaise led her to a green and gold colored pavilion. They ducked inside the large tent, and sat down on the green and gold chairs.

"This one is my favorite," he said. She looked up from a book she'd found. "We all have one. This one is mine; and Zel and Eduardo like the pink and gold one; Mum and Lil like the grey and silver one; Dad, the black and white one; and June likes the blue and tan one. I've no idea why we all like different ones. But I suppose that the furnishing is different in each one."

"You suppose?" Hermione asked.

He shrugged. "Once a pavilion is claimed by a person—or two people—then no one else is allowed in them, unless they're brought in by the person or people who claimed it. I've been in Dad's, and that's it."

"What does his look like?"

"Similar to mine. More straight backed wooden chairs than these ones and a desk." He looked at her, a peculiar expression on his face. "You're the first person I've brought in here."

Hermione smiled, and said, "Oh." She looked away from him and glanced around the room for a minute. "Who built the pavilions?"

"I think the same person who built Zabini Manor," Blaise replied, playing tic-tac-toe with an invisible opponent. "My twenty-times great-grandfather, Jean Zabini." He finished the game and picked a book off the shelf and started to read.

"Oh."

They sat around for the rest of the afternoon, until Tylen came in to tell them it was time for dinner. Blaise glanced at Hermione before replying.

"I think we'll dine in my chambers tonight, Tylen," he said. "Please convey my regrets to my mother."

"Yes, Master," Tylen said, turning around and leaving the tent.

"How come Tylen's allowed in?" Hermione asked.

"Because I let her in," Blaise said, squinting at the bookshelf before putting his book back in the exact same spot. "Everyone has at least one House-Elf that can come into their pavilion. Mum and Lil have got Yinna; Dad's got Tylen's brother, Hinder; Zel and Eduardo have Hennie; and June's got Fedal." He stretched. "Now for the long trek back to my rooms for dinner. I'm starved."

They walked back to the manor, first making sure that no other family members were around, and made their way up to Blaise's room through back ways.

"Where are we going to eat, Blaise? I mean, we can't just eat on your library table," Hermione said as they entered Blaise's chambers.

Blaise looked at her, horrified. "Eat on my library table? Never! We're eating on my dining room table."

"Dining room?"

"Yeah." Blaise walked over to a bookshelf and pulled a book out; a secret door swung out, the width of a shelving unit. They walked through it and into a rectangular room that had a table with six chairs around it. The room had four windows, though none of them looked out into Blaise's room. Hanging from the ceiling was a chandelier, with candles in it. Blaise escorted Hermione to the chair to the right of the head of the table and pulled it out for her. "Mademoiselle, your chair." She sat, giggling.

He sat down at the head of the table and rang a bell that was on the table. House-Elves hurried in and served them the meal, filling their glasses and putting napkins on their laps.

"Mm, filet mignon," Hermione said, smelling the scent of a medium rare piece of steak. "Delicious."


	13. Finally

Thirteen

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she panicked a bit until she remembered where she was. Sitting up in her enormous bed, she looked around the room, which was bathed in sunlight.

'_That's odd,_' she thought. '_I closed the curtains last night, I remember-_'

"Would Miss like some breakfast?" squeaked a House-Elf at her right elbow.

Hermione jumped, startled. She turned, and looked at the House-Elf. She—Hermione knew it was a she because her garment, made out of towels, was in a dress-like shape—had an apricot-shaped nose with eyes the same size, and she was floating next to the bed, with a trolley covered in breakfast foods next to her. "Yes, please," Hermione said. "And you are?"

"Lyttie, Miss," the House-Elf replied, stacking what must have been a pound of bacon onto a plate. "Does Miss want any toast?" Hermione nodded. "Butter, Miss? Or jam?"

"Strawberry jam, please."

"Here you are, Miss," Lyttie said, handing Hermione a tray that had a loaded plate on it. Lyttie canceled her floating charm and pushed the trolley out of the room, leaving Hermione sitting in bed staring at five pieces of toast with strawberry jam, a pound of bacon and a pitcher of milk.

She blinked at the food, then picked up a piece of toast and tasted it gingerly. Finding it delicious, she ate the rest with speed, enjoying the tastes. Though she had almost eaten herself into a coma the night before, she had found she was starving upon waking.

After Hermione had eaten everything that was on her plate, she lay back on her pillows and stared at the ceiling.

"I can't _believe_ I ate so much," she muttered. "It must have to do with the atmosphere. It's not that pleasant."

₤₤₤₤₤

Blaise woke about half an hour after Hermione had finished eating to find a bathrobe-clad Hermione on his moveable ladder, pulling a book off the shelf. He blinked, clearing the drowsiness out of his system before speaking aloud.

"What're you doing in my room at," he glanced at his clock, "ten fifteen in the morning?"

Hermione nearly fell off the ladder in surprise. "Oh," she said, climbing down carefully, "did I wake you? I'm sorry." She looked back up at the ladder and shuddered slightly. "Ugh, how can you go on that all the time? I couldn't do that…"

"It's got an Unbreakable spell on it," Blaise said, voice still groggy. "Dad put it on when I first bought all my books."

"When was that?" Hermione asked, getting settled in one of the chairs, book open on her lap as she fiddled with her fuzzy bathrobe so it covered all of her.

"Um," Blaise said, sitting up and rubbing his head, yawning, "summer before third year, I think. I got partial funding from my Great-Aunt Phyllis, my grandmother's sister, who likes me. Otherwise, I used the entire summer's allowance." He grinned. "But it was worth it. My original library was only about two entire shelving units, and I've been adding ever since. Mostly I get them from the bookstore in Hogsmeade, though last summer I went to Rome with Zel and visited a rare books dealer I had heard of from my father."

"How much money _do_ your relatives give you?" Hermione asked, amazed.

"Great-aunt Phyllis only gave me money that once," he said, scratching his back. "But I was basically the sole beneficiary of my grandmother's will." He grinned in memory. "She played the wizard stock market and made a lot of money. She left Dad and Zel around twenty thousand Galleons each, but I got the rest, which was around five million. It's in a trust that I can't touch until I'm thirty, though."

"Why thirty?" Hermione asked, making a note from the book on her lap.

"She felt that men below the age of thirty are irresponsible," he said dryly. "She actually felt that way about everyone, now that I think about it. But she was nice, and didn't like Mum, that I remember."

"What about your maternal grandparents?" Hermione asked offhand, gazing at him as he looked out his window.

"That's a good question," he said, looking back at her. She looked back at her book suddenly, blushing, and a wicked grin grew on his face. "I think I'll ask Mum before lunch. That should gain us the rest of the day left alone." He noticed that she was red and frowned a bit. "Are you hot? I don't think it's that hot, but I could open a window."

"Oh, no thanks," Hermione said quickly, standing up. "I should go get dressed, anyway. Do your parents mind Muggle clothing?"

Blaise snorted. "No," he said slowly, trying to look innocent.

Hermione eyed him, and left the room. She quietly retreated into her room and stood before the wardrobe, examining the contents. Finally, she chose a pair of jeans and a red-and-white striped sweater. Pulling on socks that matched her sweater, she tied her shoes quickly. 

She puttered around in her room for a while before going to knock on Blaise's door.

"Come on in," he called. She walked in to find him balanced on the top rung of the ladder, reaching for a book.

"Oh my God!" Hermione cried, running over. "Blaise, get _down_!" She stood at the foot of the ladder, wringing her hands, staring up at him worriedly.

After a minute, he climbed down and stood in front of her, book in hand. "I'm fine," he said, smiling at her, hands on her shoulders. "I'm fine."

The smile that formed on her face was rather brittle. "Well, Blaise, I- I-" she sniffed and looked away, face bright red, "-I care about you, okay?"

He blinked slowly, and one hand reached up to touch her face lightly. His index finger trailed over her cheek down to her lips and lingered there for a moment. "I…" he murmured, head cocked to one side, a curious and soft look on his face. "I… care about you, too," he said, slightly surprised.

Blaise had never admitted romantic thoughts or feelings to anyone before. At least, not verbally. He could remember several times that he wrote notes to girls only to see them giggling with their friends and pointing at him during lunch. Never before had one come to him and admitted feelings for him. It was a curious sensation.

His lips twitched, and a smile grew on his face. "So, do we kiss now, or what?"

Hermione giggled a bit. "Only if you want to," she offered, her smile happier.

Blaise grinned, put his hands on her waist and drew her closer, trying not to be visibly nervous. While this certainly wasn't his first kiss, it was definitely more exciting to him. He felt Hermione's hands slip up around his neck, finger slipping into his hair.

Hermione, too, was excited. Contrary to what most people believed, she had, in fact, kissed and been kissed before. A few times with Ron, early in sixth year, and also Terry Boot, over Easter the last year, and at Diagon Alley when she went to get her supplies for seventh year. As Blaise's hands slipped around her waist, she put hers around his neck and slowly dug her fingers into his thick black hair.

Blaise gulped silently as he tentatively leant down to her face, kissing her lightly at first, then deepening it after a minute. Hermione returned the kiss, tightening her grip around his neck, pulling his face closer.

A few minutes later, there was a pounding on the door. The person on the other side didn't wait for an answer, as they burst through into his room.

"That didn't take you long, I see," an amused voice said from near the opposite end of the mahogany table, by the door.

"Zel!" Blaise panted, embarrassed. "Don't burst into my room like that. It's rude."

"I knocked," her sister countered, crossing her arms. With a wink, she continued, "But I suppose you were too engaged in your activities to notice."

Blaise glared at her through narrowed eyes. He was about to argue her claim when he was interrupted by Hermione clearing her throat.

"Erm," she started. She was red as her sweater when Blaise looked at her; he supposed he was probably flushing just as deep, too. "If you will excuse me, I, er, mustgotmrrmthdhsthng."

And with that she walked out, pulling her bathrobe tightly around her as she went, leaving an awkward Blaise and a grinning Zel behind her.

"Thanks a lot, Zel," Blaise grumbled. He glared at his sister.

"Excuse _me_, Blaise," Zel sniffed. "I'm pregnant. I go through tactless phases. Ask Eduardo."

The door banged open again, but this time it was Eduardo. He was panting and looking suspiciously at his wife.

"You," he said, advancing on Zel, finger waving menacingly. "You tricked me." He glared at her, holding a chocolate-covered pickle up. "You told me you wanted a chocolate-covered gherkin. You _lied_ to me. You just wanted to spy on your brother!"

Zel squirmed and looked at her feet. "Well…"

"There is no 'well' about it," Eduardo said, his accent getting thicker with emotion. "Leave Blaise alone!" And then he began shouting in Italian, with Zel replying. After a while, Eduardo got so worked up that he took a bite of the pickle, trying to calm down and think. After he chewed for a moment, a look of twisted agony appeared on his face. He spat the mouthful out in his hand and swore in Italian. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" he cried. "This is disgusting! How _can_ you eat this?"

Zel grabbed the pickle from him and wolfed it down. "Ah," she said, smiling. "I love chocolate-covered gherkins in the morning."

Blaise and Eduardo exchanged sickened looks. "All right, you two, out," Blaise said, shooing his sister and brother-in-law out of his room. "Out. Now."

"But Blaise, I have news," Zel said before he closed the door.

"What?" he asked, opening it a crack and poking his head out.

"Mum wants you and Hermione downstairs," Zel said smugly, walking away.

Blaise glared at his sister, then left his room to bang on Hermione's door. It opened, and he barely had enough time to stop his fist before he hit her on the forehead.

"Sorry," he said, smiling apologetically. "But we've got to get downstairs pronto."

"Oh, no! Does this mean what I think it means?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Blaise said, leading her to a metal door in the wall. "The laundry chute. Jump in- or shall I go first?"

"You go first," Hermione said, eying the chute with distrust.

"Right, then." He jumped in, and she followed. She heard him counting and suddenly he shouted, "Brake!" and put his feet onto the wall.

They climbed out of the chute into a room Hermione hadn't seen before.

"Um, Blaise," she said. "Where are we?"

He was closing the chute door, which, on this floor, was hidden behind a painting.

"Welcome to the Zabini family portrait hall."

Hermione looked around her at all of the portraits. A main trait among them—besides that most were asleep—was their black curly or wavy hair.

"So your hair is a family trait," Hermione said, fingering a strand of his dark wavy hair.

He looked up at it and frowned. "Unfortunately, yes. I'd much rather I got the other tendency of red hair, but that kind of died out about three centuries ago." He looked at his hair again, this time ruefully. "Sort of wished I'd be the one to bring the trend back. Black hair is so boring after thirty generations. No variety."

"So… you're related to the Weasleys?" Hermione asked.

"No, not at all. The Zabinis were from France originally. I think one of my many-times great grandfathers married a Weasley, but maybe not. She had red hair, anyway. And, as I'm sure you know, black hair is very close to red hair in many respects, genetically, I mean. But she started the red hair trend until about four hundred years ago when one of my ancestors married someone with black hair, thereby dooming the rest of us to no hair variation," he said. "And no one else married someone with red hair, and the black hair tendency is rather hard to quell. Ah, there she is. Mary Zabini, the instigator of red hair throughout the clan. How I wish I had hair like hers."

Blaise bent down to peer at the plaque on the portrait that named the people in it. "'Mary Turnam-Zabini and her husband, Franco Zabini, 1012."

Hermione, who had gone to look at another portrait, dashed back. "Did you say 'Turnam'?" she said, excited.

"Yeah, look, it says it right there," Blaise replied.

"Turnam was the maiden name of Gryffindor's wife. Lesta _Turnam_. This is why Dumbledore had us come here," Hermione said, jumping with excitement.

"Well, we found what he wanted us to find," Blaise said, grinning widely, bouncing a bit, "but what else is here?"

₤₤₤₤₤

**A/N:** Sorry for the updating delay! I'm so sorry! I forgot. It won't happen again. I'll submit up to fifteen once eighteen's done! Thanks for sticking by me!


	14. Surprise Guests

**A/N:** AAH! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to be this long! Here's chapters fourteen and fifteen, enjoy!

₤₤₤₤₤

"Who would've thought that something like that would be in my house," Blaise said, as he and Hermione walked along the portrait hall to where he thought his mother would be. "My boring old house. Amazing."

"I don't think so," Hermione said, as he reached over to hold her hand. "Your house is rather old, and I think that since most purebloods intermarry, it was most likely only a matter of time before we found something to do with Gryffindor."

"Hmm…" Blaise said. "Ah, the 'Parlor of a Thousand Fights'." Hermione looked at him, curious. "This is the parlor Mum summons us to when she's in for a fight. One can only hope that Lil isn't here yet. D'you have your ring on?" Hermione held up her right hand. The silver ring had runes etched onto it, and it shone a bit. "Good. One can also hope that Dad's in there, otherwise we'll have to tough it out on our own."

He nodded grimly at her and opened the parlor door to see his mother and father, plus the Malfoy family.

"Draco?" he said, amazed.

"Blaise," Draco replied. "Granger? What're you doing here?"

"I'm a guest, same as you, Malfoy," Hermione replied, trying to be civil.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Blaise said, plastering a welcoming smile on his face. "Welcome."

"You may wonder why the Malfoy's are here, Blaise," Frances said.

"That I do," Blaise admitted.

"I've decided to have an old-fashioned Christmas," Frances announced.

"Pardon?" Blaise said.

"One where all of our friends come over to share in the holidays season," Frances continued, ignoring Blaise.

"Shit," Blaise mumbled.

"Watch your tongue," his father told him, and then returned, a somewhat pained smile on his face, to a conversation with Lucius Malfoy.

"Blaise, why don't you show Draco around?" Frances suggested. "I'm sure you and your little friends will have loads of fun."

"Yes, Mum," Blaise said, almost robotically. "C'mon, Draco."

Draco followed them out into the hallway and to the library.

"Aw, Blaise, the _library_?" he said. "It's the holidays. Where's June?" He grinned.

"Don't forget you already have a girlfriend," Blaise reminded him, scanning the shelves for a certain book.

"Ginny won't know- Shit." Draco glared at Hermione. "Don't you _dare_ tell Potty and the Weasel. Ginny doesn't want them to know. Yet."

"_You_'re Ginny's boyfriend?" Hermione asked, surprised and a bit shocked. "Impossible. She said he was a 'loving, caring guy with a great mind and completely into me.' Actually, she said more, but I won't repeat it." She shook her head. "I can't believe it." She grinned to herself, suddenly quiet.

"I am her boyfriend," Draco said, somewhat proudly.

"Oh, shut up," Blaise grumbled. "I'm trying to find something."

"You're _always_ trying to find something," Draco said, sitting down. He put his feet up on the table. He was wearing black leather pants, a dark green—almost black—sweater, and shoes that matched his pants. "Mostly your sanity."

"Don't tease, Draco," Blaise scolded, still looking. "You know I lost that permanently years ago."

"Boys," Hermione muttered. "You two are _just_ like Harry and Ron sometimes."

Draco and Blaise looked at her horrified. "Not true!" they chorused.

"That's something they would do, too," Hermione said. "Now, Blaise, what're you looking for?"

"My family history book for ten hundred to eleven hundred," he said. "It should have some stuff in there about Mary and Lesta."

"Why don't you look at the beginning of the shelving unit?" Hermione suggested.

"Because that's not how they're organized. I've forgotten the family history part of Dad's system, and so I have to look at _all_ of them, not just the ones at the beginning," Blaise said, flipping open a volume.

"Why does he organize them in such a hard way to find what you want?" Hermione asked, following Blaise's suit.

"Because he doesn't want anyone to find anything out?" Draco suggested.

"No. Because he doesn't like 'conventional' methods and invert societyThat's _it!_" he exclaimed, going to the middle. "It starts at nine hundred… so the one I want should be… this one!" And he pulled out the book that was next to the book in the very center. "Dear old Dad," he muttered, flipping through the pages.

"Honestly," Draco said. He grabbed the book and drew out his wand. "_Invenire 'Mary'!_" Once he spoke the last syllable, the book slammed open and the pages turned to a certain section. "There." Draco held the book out to Blaise. "Mary."

"Thanks Draco, I wouldn't have thought of that. Though how did you know we were looking for Mar?" Blaise asked.

"That's because you're a Muggle at heart," Draco said. "Never think of spells. Always the Muggle way. How did I know? You mentioned the woman's name about fifty times between here and the parlor. Honestly, Blaise."

Blaise reached out an arm and shoved Draco while still reading the book. "Shut it."

"No sense of humor," Draco muttered. "I think I should find June."

"She's probably in her tent with _Luc_," Blaise said, making a face when he said the name.

"I don't see why you have to make fun of your sister's boyfriend that way," Hermione said, taking the book from him. "I mean, he seemed…" she grinned, "…very, erm, _nice_."

"Great," Blaise said. "My prospective girlfriend thinks my sister's boyfriend is attractive."

"WHAT?" Draco said, jumping out of his chair and looking at Blaise and Hermione. "Your WHAT?"

"His girlfriend," Hermione said, looking at Blaise, giving him a look. "Not 'prospective,' if you don't mind. Or do you mean you have more than one 'prospective' girlfriend?"

"Oh, no, I only have one," Blaise said, mobbing over to her and looping an arm around her waist. "I'm not _that_ stupid, Gryff."

"Good," Hermione said. She smiled at him, suddenly feeling shy.

"Ah, Stage One," Draco said, leaning back in his chair, preparing to deal with his friend's new girlfriend later.

"Don't even start, Draco," Blaise warned.

Draco ignored him. "Stage One: in which you feel loving and happy all the time. Then comes Stage Two, in which you grow closer and find out each other's wants and needs. Stage Three, you continue clinging to one another, basically ignoring all other life forms. Followed by Stage Four, where you grow apart, needing more 'time alone.' And then, finally, Stage Five, where you find your boyfriend or girlfriend screwing a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff."

"That's lovely Draco," Blaise said, glaring at his friend. "We really don't want to hear your philosophy of relationships." Blaise turned to Hermione. "He only thinks that's what happens because that's what happens to him." Hermione nodded, looking away from Draco, becoming suddenly uneasy.

"Um, Blaise? Let's go back to your library and look over this," she said, elbowing Blaise.

Blaise sighed. "You can come too, Draco."

₤₤₤₤₤

Hermione was slumped over the Zabini Family History (Volume Two), eyes closed, breathing in and out slowly with a rhythm.

"I think she's asleep," Draco said in a loud whisper.

Blaise glared at him. "Well, that's obvious, you idiot," he whispered back. "I'll levitate her to her bed."

He walked over to Hermione and looked at her. Shaking his head, he picked her up instead and carried her over to the door. He motioned with his head for Draco to open the door and then to open her door. He turned sideways so her head wouldn't hit the doorframe, carried her over to the bed and placed her there, under the covers. He quietly made his way back out of her room, after dragging Draco away from the vanity with him.

Once he was back in his room, he sat down in a chair across from Draco.

"So, how are you doing with your Potions assignment?" Draco asked, cleaning his fingernails.

"Don't do that in my room," Blaise said, eying the fingernail dirt with distaste. "Pretty well. We submitted our project on the last class. Twelve and a half feet, complete with samples of the potions. Snape said he'd give the grades out at beginning of next term. Why weren't you there, by the way?"

"I was in hospital," Draco grumbled. "Longbottom's cauldron exploded while we were making our samples and I was hit with the unfinished potion."

"What was it? Your potion, I mean," Blaise asked. Draco mumbled something that a yawn interrupted. "What? Speak louder, please."

"A Keep-Awake potion," Draco said, yawning more. "What _time_ is it?"

Blaise glanced at his watch. "Ten fifty," he said. "P.M., of course. So, what effect does a Keep-Awake potion have when not completed?"

"It causes your eyes to grow to the size of dinner plates and for you to not to sleep," Draco said. "The only cure is to drink a Sleeping potion and sleep for at least forty-eight hours, apparently." Blaise laughed, and Draco put his feet up on the table. "I was never better rested in my life."


	15. The Library

Blaise and Draco stayed up until midnight, talking and laughing about the current happenings in their lives. Around half past midnight, Blaise showed Draco to the room across the hall from Hermione's. It was all mahogany wood, like Blaise's room, but was all in green and black.

"Look, a room to match your personality," Blaise said dryly, standing in the doorway. "By the way, nice leather pants."

Draco grinned. "I like them. I got them for my birthday this year and just now its gotten cold enough to wear them, according to Mum."

"Who gave them to you?" Blaise asked, leaning in the doorway.

Draco looked around, and walked closer. "There wasn't a tag on them," he whispered, "but they were from-" he looked around again, slightly paranoid, "-Aunt Andromeda, Mum's sister."

Blaise nodded. "The one that's married to the Muggleborn?" Draco nodded. "Ah. It's kind of cool that Dad only has brothers. Brothers aren't that controversial."

"Count yourself lucky," Draco grumbled. "I never see any of my interesting relatives."

"Yeah, but that's the downside. I have no interesting relatives," Blaise said. "Except, of course, my insane sisters, but one can hardly count them in all their insanity."

"Very true," Draco agreed. His composure brightened. "Guess what."

"What?"

"No, you have to guess!"

"I give up."

"Blaise…"

"Draco…"

"Fine. Mum's having a baby!"

"Oh, God, another Malfoy in the world," Blaise moaned. "I don't think I can deal with it right now, Draco. G'night."

"Night."

₤₤₤₤₤

The next morning Hermione woke up with her clothes on, and blinked at her striped sweater.

"What?" she said, sleep laced through her voice. "What happened?" She sat up and rubbed her eyes, blinking at the strong sunlight pouring through the windows.

She got out of bed and went to Blaise's room. He was lying in his bed, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Thank _God_ you're awake," Blaise said. He looked over at her. "It's so boring to lay in bed for three hours listening to Draco go on and on about his girlfriend." Hermione looked at him puzzled. "Oh, he went back to his room about twenty minutes ago to "find" something." He scoffed. "I doubt it."

The door banged open again, and Draco came in, waving a photo. "I found it," he said, panting a bit. "It's- Oh, hello, Granger." He tucked the photo into a pocket and went to sit down on one of the chairs.

Hermione yawned. "I was just wondering," she said, "how I got into my bed fully clothed last night, when the last thing I remember is being at that table, studying."

"Well, the thing is that I, well, picked you up and carried you into bed," Blaise said quickly.

"Oh." Hermione went to sit down on another chair. "Okay."

Draco, who had retreated to hide behind the chair, peeked up at her. "That's _it_?" he said.

"What's it?" Hermione asked, making her way to the door.

"We hear about your bottled-up Gryffindor anger and how you blow up when enough gets to you, and that's _it_?"

Hermione shrugged. "Yeah," she said, grinning. "I'm going to clean up now. See you at breakfast…" The door closed behind her and Blaise came up from under the covers.

"Wow," he said. "I have the _perfect_ girlfriend."

₤₤₤₤₤

Blaise and Draco waited until the last minute to get showered and dressed. By the time they were finished, Hermione had been finished for fifteen minutes, but was now sitting at the vanity, putting on some makeup.

"Vanity," Blaise said, leaning in the doorway, Draco beside him, "is a sin, you know."

"I do know," Hermione said, not turning around. "But your families are vultures waiting to swoop down and peck out my liver at the least imperfection. I think I'd rather be vain for four weeks than picked on. Of course, since neither of you get along with my friends, _this will never make it back to them_."

"Of course," they agreed.

"Now let's go," Blaise said. "I'm _starving_."

Hermione looked in the mirror one last time before standing up. She was wearing a floor-length three-tiered green velvet skirt, with a long-sleeved silver shirt with green writing that read 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.'

"Nice shirt," Blaise commented.

"It was a present for my birthday from Fred and George," she replied, slipping her feet into her shoes. "'If the Head Girl wears it, then we'll get good publicity,' they said. I don't wear it during term, just holidays because of that. But it is one of my favorite shirts, since it's quite comfortable."

"D'you use it as pajamas?" Draco asked, as they walked to the stairs. "I find that shirts that are comfortable that have… objectionable material make wonderful pajama tops."

Blaise coughed at this, and grinned when Hermione glared pointedly. "No, I don't use them as pajamas," Hermione said loudly, to cover up Blaise's, "She certainly doesn't."

Draco eyed Blaise. "How do _you_ know what her-" Realization dawned on him. "Oh, so you two have already-" He was cut off by Blaise pushing him backwards, and he landed on the stairs before he said anything.

"Shut up, Draco," Blaise said, annoyed. "Just… shut it."

Draco rolled his eyes, got up, and followed them down the stairs to breakfast.

₤₤₤₤₤

"I can't _believe_ Mrs. Zabini sat me by you," Hermione hissed to Draco.

Draco took a drink of his Turkish coffee. "Honestly, Granger, you don't get the whole dinner party thing, do you?" Hermione glared at him and he went on. "When someone sits you beside someone that you didn't come with and the person you're sitting next to is _particularly_ annoying or offensive it means that they don't like you." He looked at her, a smirk hovering at the edge of his mouth as he took a bite of scrambled egg. "So, tell me, 'Ms. Head Girl' what did you _do_ to Frances Zabini that has made her dislike you?"

"I didn't do _anything_," she protested. "Nothing."

"Then, what did or didn't you do to one or several of her children and/or loved ones?" Draco asked, flashing a grin-like smirk in June's direction.

"Nothing. Well, I did side with Blaise over Lilithe. And I _am_ sort-of dating Blaise, but how would she know?" Hermione asked.

"In these mansions even the walls talk," Draco muttered. "You learn that quickly."

"How so, oh learned one?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

Draco sneered at her, sipping his coffee again. "Why should I explain to you?" he said. "Perhaps you should ask lover-boy, over there."

"Shut it, Draco." He looked up, surprised. It was June who had spoken. "Leave off before I force you too."

"Little June," he said, smirk replacing the sneer, "you don't know whom you're talking too."

June glared at him. "Don't I?" She turned to Hermione. "C'mon. I want to show you something."

June stood up and came around the table, grabbing Hermione and dragging her behind her as she left the room. Hermione flashed a 'What the _heck_?' look towards Blaise before she disappeared out of the door.

June tugged her through corridors and out into the garden. Hermione glimpsed the path that lead to the green and gold tent before June pulled her down another, different path. They passed large, fragrant pink roses, surrounded by daffodils.

"Ah," June said. Hermione turned away from the flowers and looked beyond June. "We're here." A blue and tan pavilion, about thirty feet high, that was striped on the sides, but polka dotted on the peaked roof. June walked over to the flap that looked to be the door and flipped it open. She turned, beckoning to Hermione. "Come on in," she said, waving Hermione in.

Hermione walked past June into the pavilion and looked around. It had two floors, and a dark wooden spiral staircase that led to the second floor was to her left, on the far side of the tent. The furniture was all overstuffed armchairs and a sofa or two, with blue and tan upholstery. She went over to an armchair and sat down, pulling her legs underneath her and crossing them.

"So, um," Hermione started nervously, "why did you bring me here?"

June sat down across from her and said, "I wanted to get to know you."

'_Why now?'_ Hermione thought. '_Why would she want to get to know me _now _even if I am dating her brother? She didn't really seem interested in getting to know me the other day, in the parlor. Never mind. I'll listen to what she has to say._'

"What do you want to know?" Hermione asked, trying to be cautious.

"Where'd you grow up?" June replied. Hermione got the nagging feeling that this was some sort of interview, and not something that came entirely from June.

"Outside of Worthing." June's expression was puzzled. "It's by the sea. Not far from London, if you take the train, but it's lovely."

"Hmm. I've never heard of it."

"I'm sure you haven't. You've been living in France, right?" June nodded. "Well, then I assume you vacation mostly in Marseilles or in Italy-"

"Why would you think Italy?" June said sharply.

"Because that's where Lilithe lives, and Blaise said-" Hermione was cut off by a House-Elf who informed them that Miss Hermione was wanted by Master Blaise, now, please. "Thank you," she told the House-Elf. "I'll see you later, June. I've really got to go, this is probably about our project- Bye!" Hermione stood up and practically ran out of the tent.

Blaise stood at the end of the path, glaring up at the pavilion. "Well," he said when she reached him. "It's official. June has fallen to Lilithe."

"You make that sound like she's a Death Eater," Hermione replied, as he took her hand and kissed her fingers with a dramatic flourish.

"It's _almost_ as bad," he said, laughing. "Except with Death Eaters, you know what they want. With Lil, it's all smoke and mirrors. Her objectives change, and bloody _fast_, too. It's buggering annoying."

Hermione rolled her eyes as they went inside. "Why do I like you?" she asked, rhetorically.

"Besides my extraordinary good looks, engaging wit and charms?" Blaise said smoothly. "It's obviously-"

"-the way you make me laugh?" Hermione giggled. "Blaise, my dear, sometimes you're too much."

A smile tugged at his lips. "I know. But don't you love it?"

"Absolutely." She kissed his cheek quickly as they passed the parlor.

"I've got a treat for you," he said, leading her down a small corridor.

"What?"

He grinned. "Close your eyes," Blaise said, putting her hands up by her face as they stood in front of a door. She heard the door open, and tried to peek. "No peeking, Hermione! I saw that!" She laughed. He put his hands on her shoulders, led her into the room and stood behind her. "Okay… open up!"

She opened her eyes and gasped. She was standing in the biggest library she'd ever seen. It was two floors, with a staircase alongside the wall leading to the second floor. The bookshelves reached up to the ceiling on both floors, and signs hung in between the shelves saying what kind of books were in the section.

"But, Blaise," Hermione said, gazing open-mouthed at the thousands—maybe even millions— of books, "didn't we already go to the library?"

"We actually have two. Well, two in this house. There's a mansion in Italy that has five, I think. But I digress. The library that we were in the other day was the family research library."

"_Five_ libraries?" Hermione said, somewhat reverently.

Blaise's grin grew wider. "Yes. Five."

"Wait. Family research library?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Dad _is_ a professional researcher," Blaise replied. "Occasionally, when he's finished a job, he likes to research the family's history. This library is for his main research, though when it's a tough job he goes to the Italy house. I love that place. Before I went to Hogwarts we lived there for six years, from when I was five to eleven."

"Who in the _world_ hires your dad to research? It must cost a bundle," Hermione said in wonder.

"Well, generally the people who hire me have the funds," said Zachary Zabini, who had been in the upstairs section of books, and was now standing midway down the staircase. "I'd like to tell you who hires me, but that's a violation of contracts and some laws, I believe."

"Mr. Zabini," Hermione said.

"Dad." Blaise nodded at his father.

"So what brings you to my researching library on this fine day?" Zachary asked.

"Escape from June and Lil, not to mention the Malfoys and Mum, and I wanted to make Hermione jealous," Blaise said.

Zachary eyed his son. "Blaise, could you come upstairs with me for a few minutes?" he asked politely.

"Dad, I wish I could, but-" Blaise began.

"_Now_," Zachary said, turning and walking up the stairs. Blaise flashed Hermione an apologetic look and dashed up the stairs after his father. He found Zachary in the Sumerian aisle in the Nation section and walked over to him. "You and Hermione…"

"Me and Hermione," Blaise agreed.

Zachary fixed him with a look. "No joking, Blaise Michael Hyndir Délas Zabini. You two have been 'dating' for less than two days. I think you need to take it slower." His eyebrows rose and he frowned slightly. "Now, you and Hermione may truly be destined for one another, but you need to be able to _trust_ each other before you do anything… rash."

"What, exactly, do you mean?" Blaise asked, shifting his weight.

"What I mean is that if I hear of anything—_anything_—that I deem 'rash', I _will_ be writing Dumbledore and transferring you to Beauxbaton or even that school in Italy, if I have to," Zachary warned.

Blaise's mouth dropped open. "_What_?"

"I mean it. I am completely serious, son. And if you break my trust, I will _personally_ arrange for you to spend the summer with your sister." He cut off Blaise's budding smile by saying, "Not Zel. Lilithe." Blaise's face fell.

"You wouldn't," he breathed.

"Try me," his father replied, folding his arms across his chest.

Blaise sighed. "Fine. I won't do anything improper or 'rash'," he said, sighing. "_Now_ can I go?"

"Yes." Zachary smiled at his son and ruffled the seventeen-year-old's hair.

"Aw, Dad," Blaise whined.

"Go on," he said. "Go spend time with your girlfriend." Blaise went fifteen feet before Zachary called after him, "I'm watching you, remember." Blaise started to object when Zachary laughed and waved him on. "Out. Now. I'm researching something important."

"For who?" Blaise asked.

"Can't tell you. Out. Stay downstairs."

"Fine. See you later." Blaise mock-saluted his dad before walking back down the stairs to rejoin Hermione.

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**A/N:** Okay, I hope you liked this! I'll try to update sooner next time, I promise!


	16. Shocking Revelations

**Disclaimer:** I have never, and never will, own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd have a better, faster computer connection.

**A/N:** Well, sorry to make you wait, but here's chapter sixteen! I hope you like it, and you'll have to wait for seventeen, I'm afraid. Thanks to James, my beta, for getting this to me when my computer got a virus! He rocks! More notes at bottom concerning updates.

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Sixteen

Blaise showed Hermione around the library, constantly reminding her to close her mouth because flies would get into it if she didn't. She did, as she felt a gnat land on her tongue, and, the sensation, she said, "Was _not_ pleasant."

They walked through the upstairs sections upstairs in an area that had a cut out section in the floor with railing around it, where you could look down at the area below. The main door of the library slammed shut, and Blaise frowned. His frown grew —though Hermione didn't notice, since she was examining the books on the shelf— as he heard the steps approach the area beneath them.

"Zachary?" called a voice he knew well. Blaise pulled Hermione down as the man glanced up into the balcony area where they were. The man frowned and sighed exasperatedly before glancing around him.

"Lilithe," said the cold, drawling voice of Severus Snape below them.

"Severus. I wondered when you'd arrive," Lilithe responded from her chair in the corner, half engulfed in shadow. "Acting as Dumbledore's pet messenger boy again, I see."

Snape pulled his wand from his robes and pointed it at the woman's temple, seething and shaking with rage. She didn't even flinch, and the wand remained trained on her, even as she was merely a few words away from death. "Never," he said, "speak to me like that again. Or I swear I won't keep silent next time." He turned to leave, and she called after him.

"You haven't changed, Severus. Not once in all these years," Lilithe said, voice dripping of false sentiment and poison. "Don't think you can. I've known you for too long."

Hermione whispered to Blaise, "What's going on? Why is Snape here? How does he know Lilithe?"

Blaise shrugged. "I dunno. Shh, I want to hear what they're talking about," he whispered back.

"You couldn't kill me, Severus," Lilithe continued, tauntingly. "And if you did, it would haunt you for the rest of your life. You never could kill people. That was your weak point."

Snape turned sharply and strode over to her and grabbed her throat, snarling at her. She gave a gargled laugh. "Oh, a backbone. Bravo, Severus. I see that the brats of the Wizarding elite have toughened you up to my sharpened claws."

Snape snarled at her, lip curling up so far it almost disappeared and tossed her back into the chair. 'You forget, Lilithe," he hissed, "about what I said, all those years ago."

"I forget _nothing_, Severus," Lilithe said. "You know that."

"You'll _wish_ you'd forgotten a great deal if you don't shut up!" Snape said; his voice a hoarse whisper that spoke of rage.

"You think you're so noble," she replied, not even trying to hide the taunting in her voice. "You aren't. You're just eaten up inside, Severus. I know you are. You've forgotten how to shield yoursel-" She was gazing into his eyes, and suddenly her expression became unfocused and her eyes glowed a bit. Then the expression disappeared, and she laughed. "You think of _that_?" she spat. "Of all things. Someday, Severus, someday _soon_ your downfall, as short as it may be, will come." She started to laugh bitterly, with an undertone of something not quite human, not quite earthly.

Snape almost roared and picked her up again by her throat and shook her, causing her to laugh even more, until he squeezed hard enough so she couldn't laugh, could barely even breathe. "I swear to you, Lilithe," he said, glaring down at her as she rubbed her throat from her limp stance on the armchair he'd dumped her on. "I swear to you that the next time I see you, I won't be accountable for what I do." He advanced, and trailed his wand along her jugular. "And I swear to you, that when I see you on the battlefield, when this war comes to its climax, I will kill you. That's a promise, Lil." He gave her a ragged sneer, before actually leaning down to kiss her. "Just for old time's sake. Take care, so that you are alive and well by the time I kill you..." He strode away from view, and Blaise and Hermione sat for a moment, speechless at the sight that they had just witnessed.

Lilithe sat for a few moments before slowly getting up and leaving another way. They heard her shuffle away and sat until they were sure she was gone.

"What was that?" breathed Hermione.

"I don't know," Blaise said, grabbing her hand and making their way back to the frontand the lightof the library. "And I don't want to. That was... strange. Very strange, even for my family. Death Eaters... Lilithe! I didn't think she could be involved in anything like that, but maybe I was wrong." He looked at Hermione as they leaned against a shelving unit in the Italy section. "I didn't want to believe it, but I have to face the truth: my sister is most likely evil. I should tell my dad, but I don't want to worry him. I don't want him to do something stupid, like confront her."

"Look, Blaise," Hermione said, "maybe she _isn't_ a Death Eater. After all, if she _was_, wouldn't she tell Voldemort about Snape being a spy? Er-"

"Snape's a _what_?" Blaise asked, face coming out of his hands.

"Nothing," she said hastily. "I didn't say anything."

"No, you did," he said slowly. "Snape's a _spy_?" He voice got louder with each syllable.

"_Shh_, Blaise!" Hermione said, looking around frantically. "That's a tight secret, all right? You _can't_ tell _anyone_, most especially your classmates. I can't really say some things, but many people's lives are at stake. Mine. Ron's. Harry's. Dumbledore's. All the Muggleborns and half-bloods at Hogwarts and in the Wizarding world. If this gets out... Snape could be dead by morning. _I_ could be dead by morning and so could you."

He took her by the shoulders and found she was shaking. "Hermione," he said, bundling her up in a comforting hug, his mouth right by her ear. "I won't tell anyone. We _only_ just started dating. I really don't want to die right now, just as I get a girlfriend. That really ruins the whole experience, I hear."

She giggled. "Blaise, you're so funny."

"C'mon," he said. "Let's get out of here."

They walked back to the stairs and went to the main door, where they were greeted by the sight of Zachary Zabini handing over a large, textbook-sized package to Severus Snape, who was looking slightly disheveled and a bit angry.

"Professor," Blaise said, smiling and nodding, trying not to burst and say, 'Why did you try to kill my sister?' Instead, he asked, "How are you?"

"Zabini," Snape said, nodding to him and Hermione, "Granger. I trust you are using your holiday in the manner that Headmaster Dumbledore suggested you use it?" He gave them the patented 'Snape glare' that had made more than one first year in their first Potions class faint.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, cheerful smile plastered on her face. "How has your holiday been?"

"Until now," Snape said, "utterly entertaining, as it was student-free."

Zachary covered up a snort of laughter with a cough. "Run along now," he said to them, making shooing motions. "This is business, and has absolutely nothing to do with you. Go bother your mother. I believe she and Narcissa Malfoy are discussing baby names." He made a face.

"Baby names?" Snape asked, a single eyebrow lifting in a snide querying manner. "Whatever for?" He looked at Hermione who blushed and looked at the floor.

"It's for Mrs. Malfoy," Blaise said, looking straight at his Head of House. "She's pregnant."

"Oh, dear God, not another one," they heard Snape mutter. "One was enough, and now another blond priggish brat? I won't stand for it."

"Cheer up, Severus," Zachary said, pushing Blaise and Hermione out of the library. "Look at the bright side. You might be dead by the time the child gets to Hogwarts." The closed door prohibited them from hearing any response, but they did hear a 'thwop' noise that signaled Snape whapping Zachary with something.

"Your family is insane," Hermione said as they went back down the hallway and out into the main corridor.

"Get out while you can," advised Blaise, grinning a bit.

"Are _you_ insane, Blaise, dear?" Hermione asked, eyebrows lifting in amusement. "And miss all this excitement? I don't think so!" They laughed and continued down the hall.

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As they walked towards the dining room that evening, someone came up behind them and put their arms around their shoulders. They looked and saw it was Zel, who was walking as fast as she couldwhich wasn't veryin order to walk with them.

"Honestly, you two, slow down! You're wearing out an old pregnant woman who has to waddle everywhere," Zel said jokingly. "So. D'_you_ know what's got Lil behaving like there's a billiard cue up her arse?"

Blaise snorted. "Let me ask you, besides the Malfoys-" Zel groaned at the mention of their name, "-are there any guests for dinner?"

"Yes, Severus Snape- _Oh_," Zel said, nodding to herself. "Now I see."

"See _what_?" Blaise asked, stopping short in the hallway, causing Zel to stumble.

Zel frowned. "I shouldn't have said anything," she said. "It's not my affair, nor yours, so it's best you forget it for the time being. It'll come up again sometime soon, though no doubt too soon."

"C'mon, Zel," Blaise whined. She shook her head. "Why not?"

"Because it isn't my story to tell," she said firmly. "I may not like my sister, Blaise, but I'll be damned if I tell something that you might bring up at the stupidest time."

"Just a little bit, please!" Blaise said, tugging on her sweater.

"No, sorry," Zel said as the gong rang out, announcing that dinner was served. "Let's go into supper. And hopefully we won't be sitting with Lil."

They weren't, fortunately, sitting with Lilithe. She was sitting at the head of the table, by Frances. Unfortunately, Snape had the misfortune to be sitting across from her, and was glaring furiously as he sipped his tomato soup and made polite conversation with Frances. Zel was seated near the middle, next to Lucius Malfoy and Draco, who were asking her all about the moods pregnant women get into; she was having great fun exaggerating to them and making them sweat. Blaise and Hermione had been snagged by Zachary to sit with them.

"Now, what's this about you two having some sort of project?" he asked them as he poured himself a glass of wine.

"I'll have some of that, Dad," Blaise said, offering his own wineglass. Zachary poured in a quarter glass and then another equal portion of water. Blaise glowered at the glass. "When do I get an adult's portion of wine?" he grumbled.

"When you act like one," his father replied promptly. Blaise groaned. "You set yourself up," Zachary added and Blaise nodded. "Tell me about the project, now, or I'll ask Severus for some Veritaserum. I'm sure he would gladly dump some in your wine and your pumpkin juice," he said, nodding to Blaise and Hermione in turn.

"Never mind that Veritaserum is a controlled substance," Blaise muttered.

"I'm sure Severus could 'spill' some, accidentally, into your drink," Zachary replied, cheerfully.

"Fine, fine," grumbled Blaise. "What d'you want to know?"

"What you're doing, for a start," his father said, cutting his broiled salmon.

Blaise glanced at Hermione, who sighed and nodded. "We're researching the wards at Hogwarts in hopes of finding a way to maintain them," Hermione said, glancing down the table at the Malfoys, who were staring openmouthed in a horrified manner, listening to Zel's animated (and most likely false) detailed descriptions of the wonders of pregnant women. "The Headmaster asked us to when we were put in the Founder's rooms."

Zachary dropped his fork and knife and stared, frowning, at his son and Hermione. "He did?" he murmured, pushing some cranberry sauce around with his fork, which he'd picked up. "Interesting."

"Dad, can you show us something about it?" Blaise asked, putting his hand on his father's forearm. "If you know anything, please tell us something."

"I... don't think I do, really," Zachary admitted. "But you should check the English history sectionaround ten hundredin the research library."

"We did," Blaise said, "and there wasn't anything."

"Not here, of course," Zachary said, bite halfway to his mouth. "The Zabini Villa, my dear son."

Hermione frowned. "The Zabini Villa?" she asked. "Where's that?"

"Italy," Blaise said, grinning. "Excellent! Italy and back, in the space of a few days!"

Zachary frowned. "You can go tomorrow," he said. "And I'll go with you, as I have some business there, but _only_ for tomorrow, because Christmas is on Friday."

"Okay, I guess," Blaise said, tryingand failingto hide a huge grin. "Hermione, you're _really_ going to enjoy the Villa. It's absolutely huge, though you won't be able to see the rooms besides the main library. I told you about it, remember?" She nodded, mind racing as to exactly how many books could be in the main Zabini library, but it failed to compute such a sum.

Zachary then firmly changed the subject to a different, less complicated subject: the weather.

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"So Blaise," Hermione said as they climbed the stairs to their rooms. "Is this library worth the Floo trip?"

Blaise grinned. "Let's just put it this way: you don't know libraries until you've been to the Zabini Villa main library. You'll see tomorrow." They stopped in front of her door and he kissed her cheek. "G'night, Hermione."

"Night Blaise," she said, as she went into her room and closed the door softly behind her.

The next morning Blaise knocked on her door early, for Christmas vacation. She was already awake and writing to Harry, since he had apparently instructed Hedwig to stay until she got a response. He leaned in her doorway after she had told him to come in and watched her scribble her response on a foot-long piece of parchment.

"I have never met anyone who wrote their friends as much as you do," he remarked.

"Really?" she responded, offhand as she signed her name and rooted around in her bag for a stub of wax.

"Really. I grew up with all of my friends, and we hardly ever wrote to each other, unless we were on vacation in different places," Blaise said. "But I write them now, since they all go to a school in Italy, _Isola Scuola da Molti Magia_."

"Is that a good school?" Hermione asked inquisitively.

"Very," Blaise said. "It's the top school in Italy like Hogwarts is the top school in England. The system is different, though. You have to compete to get into the school, and not a whole lot of people make it. It's not like Hogwarts, how they send you a letter when you're eleven; they have you in for the Exams when you're eleven. You sit in a room with anti-cheating everything surrounding you, and you take a test equivalent to first year's year-end exams and you either pass or you don't."

"Did you?" Blaise looked at her. She elaborated, "Did you fail?"

"No. I actually got the top score out of all the kids who took the test. But my dad said no and sent me to Hogwarts. That's how my friend Gio got his spot in the school. If I had gone, he would've had to go to the Scuola da Magia." He let out a snort of laughter.

"What's funny?" Hermione asked, really interested in something she knew nothing about.

"GioGiovanni Caverawould've been a bit... well, 'put out' is the polite way to put it, if he had had to go to Scuola da Magia. His entire family, for centuries back, has gone to the Isola magic school. Anyway. Gio's a bit of a snob about those things. I think he'll be there today, at the Villa. He, Isa and Vin _should_ be there, studying."

"Studying?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I study all the time, but during Christmas break? And why at your house?"

"Isola is _very_ competitive," Blaise said dryly. "I don't think I've seen Gio, Isa or Vin without a book in their hands, or in a bag for the past seven years. And likely not until they leave Isola, either. Dad lets them study at the villa because it's the only place that has a near enough good library that would suit their studying needs."

"How long do you stay at Isola?" Hermione handed her letter to Hedwig. "Shoo. Peck Harry for me, girl." The snowy owl flew out the window as Hermione turned back to face Blaise. He was frowning.

"It depends on what kind of training you want," he said. "Basic, like what we get here, you get in seven years, like here. Gio's training to be some sort of Tracker, though. Isabella's doing something that is related to Aurors and Vincenzo is studying Magical History and Advanced Theories of Arithmancy."

"Wow." Hermione stood up. "I'd love to go there."

The frown on Blaise's face cemented further. "No, you wouldn't. The teachers there are very... anti-Muggle. Mostly. It's an all-pureblood school." He shook his head. "But I don't want to talk about it. Let's go have breakfast."

All through breakfast, Blaise was quiet and slightly broody as Zel chatted at him and Hermione and his father glared at his newspaper as he read the headlines. Finally Zachary gave a final disbelieving snort and stood up, tossing the paper on the floor.

"Come on, kids," he said to Blaise and Hermione. "Time to go." He pushed his chair back and strode from the room, with Blaise and Hermione hurrying to catch up with him.

They went down several corridors until they reached what seemed to be an antechamber. Hermione asked Blaise about it, and he answered her, "It is an antechamber. The antechamber to the ballroom. This is where people Floo in for events my parents might have."

Zachary was muttering at something and a distinct phrase"The damn thing is always stuck"made its way over to Blaise and Hermione, who were standing by the seven-foot-tall fireplace, which was big enough for at least three people to stand in. Zachary finally got whatever he was looking for and came over, offering them a box filled with Floo powder. "Take some, stand in the fireplace, and say 'Zabini Villa'." He went over to the fireplace, did what he had instructed them and disappeared into the network.

Blaise went next, and Hermione gulped and followed him, closing her eyes as she entered the network for the long trip. When she arrived, it was sunny and warm and light spilled into the airy room from the open doors and windows.

"Welcome to my family's favorite home," Zachary told her as she dusted herself off. "I'm sure Blaise is going to show you the library, and I must head off to do a bit of research. Have fun, and don't do anything unadvised." He hurried off and around a corner.

Blaise looked at her, grinning. "It's lovely, isn't it? C'mon, let's go to the main library. I think that's where everyone should be." He took her hand and dragged her down some hallways before stopping in front of a large door that resembled a window-shutter. He dug in a pocket and came out with a silk scarf he'd brought with him and tied it around her eyes. "Trust me," he told her when she objected, "you're going to like it much better this way." He took her hands and guided her through the door, which he'd opened. After positioning her in what he must've thought was the best place, he told her, "Okay. Take off the scarf now."

She took it off and her mouth fell open. If the library back at the Manor was large, this one was easily five times the size of it. While Blaise's smug grin grew, Hermione didn't speak for a full five minutes as she walked over to a shelf and saw several rare books that she'd heard about and wanted to read. "Blaise..." she said. "This is... wow. This is _great_!"

"I knew you'd love it," he said, coming over to put his arm around her shoulder. "Here, I want to-"

"_Blaise?_" said a voice coming from their left. A girl, with long and straight dark hair, accompanied by two boys with similar appearances, though there were some differences in their appearances. The boy on her right had red hair, while the boy on her left had dark hair with bright green eyes. All three of them were wearing basically the same thing: tan pants or a skirt out of a light material with a white shirt under an ankle-length black vest. "What are you doing here? Who's she?" She spoke in Italian, so Hermione didn't understand, but Blaise did.

He replied in English, saying, "Isabella, Gio, Vin, this is Hermione Granger, from Hogwarts. She's the Head Girl and I'm Head Boy. We're here because I wanted to show her the books. She _loves_ books."

"Oh." This time the girl, Isabella, spoke in English. "You don't mind us using the library?"

"No, why should I?" Blaise asked. "I don't go to Isola, so I don't begrudge those who do the resources to make it there." For some reason, when he said this, the boy with red hair snorted and muttered something in Italian that made the other boy elbow him hard in the stomach. "Gio, d'you have something to say?"

The red headed boy glared at Blaise. "I don't see how you have to be so uppity," he said in Italian. Hermione frowned, not able to understand. "Just because you go to some smarmy school in England. Surely this 'Hogwarts' isn't as good as Isola."

Blaise glared right back at him. "I go to Hogwarts because I enjoy it," he retorted, in Italian that was not at all affected by his English accent. "In the beginning because my parents wanted me too, and now because I like it and I don't have to learn to speak bloody French." He scoffed. "As if I'd want to go to Beauxbaton anyway. Bunch of frogs."

"How goes it in Hogwarts, anyway?" asked the other boy, in English, his question hard to understand because of his thick Italian accent.

"Fun," Blaise said. "Hermione, by the way," he added in Italian, so as to not get reprimanded by her, "is my girlfriend."

"Oh, Blaise's finally got a girlfriend?" Isabella crowed, also in Italian. Hermione was beginning to be confused. "Well, the Apocalypse is coming, boys. That's a sure sign of it."

"Enough about that," Blaise said, switching back to English. "We're here to look at the books that Hermione would be more interested in, like the ones about the Founders of Isola and Hogwarts."

"Oh, those," Vin said, in heavily-accented English, pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket. "Come with me, Her-my-oh-knee, and I'll show you. I'm sure Blaise has some explaining to do," he said dryly, nodding at Isabella.

Hermione, recognizing a fellow bookworm in Vincenzo, followed him up the stairs to a little alcove, where he reached up and got down a dusty tome about the size of her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. "Wow," she said. "So, how _was_ Isola founded?"

"As a lot of other tales," Vin said, "it does actually begin with 'as legend has it'. You see, we don't really know much about the Founders of Isola, except that they had a love of knowledge and teaching the young people who showed talent for Wizardry. When you go, you don't have 'Houses' as you do in Hogwarts. You do have dormitories, and you have to take a test to show which one you're suited for. They have rooms for girls and boys in the dormitories, and you move rooms depending on what you're doing at Isola: getting an advanced degree, basic training, or a teacher's certificate. I'm in the Marison dormitory, which is mostly for the people who are into Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and other advanced subjects. It's not as old as your school is, since it was founded in thirteen hundred, but we've got the same reputation, except for a few dark spots."

"Yes, Blaise told me that the school isn't too friendly to Muggleborns," Hermione said, leafing through the book and looking at the pictures.

"Yes, it isn't, unfortunately," Vin said, sighing. "It's something I don't share but people in Marison are usually ignored since we are —I think the Muggle term 'math geeks' describes us best— more into the mathematical side of magical studies. Also unfortunately, it's a prejudice that my nearest friends —except for Blaise, who dislikes what he calls 'stupid people' no matter what their blood or heritage— share in. And it really saddens me that they could be so stupid."

While Hermione and Vin were talking about their different schools, Blaise was downstairs having a heated conversation with Isabella and Gio.

"I don't see why you don't like her!" Blaise said. "There is _nothing_ wrong with her. She's smart, she's pretty, easy to talk to and annoy-"

"The thing is, Blaise," Isa said, "that she's a _Muggleborn_. You're a pureblood. _It doesn't work that way._ You should be dating someone of your own… stature."

"Look," Blaise said, slipping into Italian and glaring at his childhood friends. "I'll date whoever I sodding _want_ to date, and there's no bloody way you can stop me!"

Gio's lips disappeared into his mouth. "Then I don't think I can speak to you anymore," he replied.

"Then you can sodding get out of my house," growled Blaise. "Both of you, until you sodding get to become a bit open-minded. Bloody hell! If I wanted to ostracize myself from everyone at school, I'd proclaim in the halls what you're spouting off. But I don't believe it, and I don't want my arse kicked every bloody day by some sodding Weasley." He kicked the stair well. "Now _get out_. And don't let me hear that you've been here or else I'll come back this summer and kick the living shit out of you." He turned and stalked away, muttering further curses in Italian.

Stomping up the steps, he found Hermione, nodded to Vin, and pulled Hermione out of her seat with a cryptic "We're leaving".

They left the library, found a House-Elf and Blaise told it shortly to tell the Master that they were leaving and went back to the fireplace.

"Blaise, _say_ something, besides cursing in Italian, which I know you're doing," Hermione told him. "What happened? What did they say?"

"They were saying some awful things about blood and 'stature' and how 'it doesn't work that way'," Blaise growled. "Elitist garbage that the so-called 'purebloods' spout off to their elitist children. I think it is all bunk. My father taught me that it's the inside, what goes on in your head that matters, not the appearance or the social status or stature. I could care less as to whether I'm ever on the society page in the _Daily Prophet_. I thought my friends were above this, but I guess not. I haven't really written to them in years, but I thought they'd be the same as they were when we were young. I suppose not. Vin, of course, is nothing like those two. He's smart and doesn't believe in all of that blood nonsense. Come on, let's go." He handed her the Floo powder and let her go first into the network. He looked back one last time at his house as he muttered "Zabini Manor," and shook his head as he stepped into the fireplace.

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**A/N:** Here's the deal: I won't be updating seventeen until I finish, and get back, eighteen. Maybe not even then. But I'll try to update before the 15th of April, which is when I go to visit some friends. Hope you liked it, please, please review!


	17. Christmas

**04/14/05**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** As promised, I am submitting seventeen before I leave on vacation for the weekend. I hope you all enjoy, even if it is very, very short. :)

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Seventeen

The next few days went by quickly and soon it was Christmas morning. House-Elves came to wake up Hermione and laid out some clothes for her to wear as they put her breakfast tray on her bed.

"Merry Christmas, Lyttie," Hermione told the toga-wearing Elf.

"Merry Christmas, Miss," Lyttie squeaked back.

Hermione rummaged around in the nightstand's drawer. "I made something for you, Lyttie," she said. "Here." She held out a small cake. "Blaise and I made it last night with some of the other House-Elves. I hope you like it."

"Miss didn't have to make anything for Lyttie," Lyttie told her, smiling. A tiny tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. "But Miss is very kind."

"Well, you've been really nice to me while I've been here, so I figured that it would be nice to give you something," Hermione told her smiling. "Thanks for breakfast."

Lyttie smiled back and left the bedroom, shooing the House-Elves that had been tiding the room out before her. She closed the door softly and Hermione started to eat.

Once she was done, she got out of bed and walked over to her closet. Opening it, she stared blankly at her clothes until she decided what she wanted to wear. She pulled out a pair of dark red robes with a green over robe and a pair of black high heels reserved for important occasions. She looked at herself in the mirror from all angles and made minor adjustments to things. When she was satisfied with her clothing, she sat down at the vanity, put on a bit of makeup, opened the small jewelry box she brought with her and put on the ring Blaise had given her along with a silver locket her parents had given her.

After that, she read for a while before giving into temptation completely and going to knock on Blaise's door. When he called to her "Come in," and she opened the door, she was surprised to see him actually out of bed and dressed. Blaise was wearing a set of dark blue dress robes, and his hair was hanging around his head, with a few strands in his eyes.

What surprised Hermione even more was that Draco Malfoy was sitting across from Blaise, in similar dress robes that were black. Draco and Blaise were currently occupied with throwing a ball back and forth, arguing about something.

"They are so better than Italy," Draco was saying heatedly. "If they weren't, how did they demolish them in the '67 tournament?"

"Oh, come off it, Draco," Blaise replied. "Everyone knows that the French team is into some sort of drug. Dreamspice, maybe. And they only beat Italy that year because the team was completely wasted that day."

"Be that as it may," Draco said, ignoring the suggestion that his team was on drugs, "they still beat Italy."

"And Italy's beat them in every tourney since then," Blaise retorted.

Draco glared at him. "So. Granger. Who's your favorite national Quidditch team?"

Hermione blinked for a moment. "Are you actually asking me something, Malfoy? In a civil way, I mean."

"Don't get used to it," Draco warned. "And just answer the question."

"I don't really like Quidditch at all," Hermione said. Blaise and Draco blinked at her, mouths open in astonishment. "Sorry. But if I had to pick a team, I'd say England."

"I still can't believe you're dating her," Draco mumbled. "You could've had so many others…"

"Like who?" Blaise asked. "Pansy? Millie? I think not."

"Padma Patil's panting over you," Draco informed him.

"No," Blaise said firmly. He smiled at Hermione, who blushed. "I like Hermione. Why would I want to date anyone else?"

"You've been 'dating' her for a grand total of three days," Draco retorted.

"Yeah, well, at least I don't get into perpetual arguments with her over nothing," Blaise said. "And at least she doesn't have six brothers who would tear me limb from limb if they knew I was dating her."

Draco made a face at him. "Yeah, well, we'll see about that," he said, standing up. "What now?"

"Uh, Blaise," Hermione said, "I was just wondering if your family opens presents at all. Because I think mine might have been delivered downstairs and I don't know if I should open them yet…"

Blaise jumped up. "Of course!" he said. "Presents. I completely forgot. So sorry, Hermione. C'mon, let's go."

They ran downstairs, Blaise and Draco arguing about relationships with Hermione inserting the occasional comment. Blaise led them to a large room that had a fifteen-foot Christmas tree at the end farthest from the door.

Blaise's parents, Lilithe and her husband, the elder Malfoys, Zel and Eduardo and June and her 'friend' were already there, chatting with strained politeness while they opened a few gifts.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," Blaise said cheerfully, settling onto a couch with Hermione as a House-Elf brought them their gifts.

"Merry Christmas," the others responded, equally cheerful as they rooted through the piles in front of them for the most promising packages.

Hermione picked up her first present and saw that it was from her parents. She unwrapped it to find a sweater she had seen during the summer, but hadn't been able to buy, due to lack of funds. Her present from Harry was the limited edition of the re-release of _Hogwarts: A History_. Ron gave her a writing desk filled with parchment, ink bottles and ten new quills.

After she had finished opening everything, she looked back down and saw there was one package left. A tiny box in red wrapping paper tied with a silver bow. She looked over at Blaise, who was trying not to smile.

"Blaise…" she said, untying the bow carefully and unwrapping the paper so that none of it tore. "You didn't have to... Oh my. It's- It's-" she looked at him, openmouthed. "It's _beautiful_." Inside the box was a silver chain on which hung a silver star with tiny diamonds imbedded in it. Blaise reached over and put the necklace on her.

"Of course I did," he said. "I saw it, and it reminded me of you."

"But…" Hermione said. "Where did you get it?"

He tweaked her nose. "That's for me to know and you to wonder about, Gryff."

"This is all very cute," Draco drawled, "but I want to see if Blaise got _me_ a gift."

"What do _you_ think, Draco?" Blaise retorted.

Draco glared at him. "Humph," he said. "I'm going to see if June got me one." He walked off, and Blaise went back to looking at Hermione, who was holding a large rectangular box in her hands, grinning at him. "Here," she said, pushing it at him.

"What's this?" he asked, accepting it and starting to tear off the paper. He pulled the top off the box to reveal a very large and thick dark blue sweater. "A sweater?"

Hermione grinned. "Not just a sweater. A _Weasley_ sweater. I wrote Mrs. Weasley and asked her to tell me how to make one for you. She thought it would be a challenge for me, since I'm not much of a knitter and sent me the directions. I really, really hope it's all right. What d'you think? What d'you think?" She looked at him eagerly.

Blaise took off his over robe and pulled the sweater on over his shirt. "I love it," he said. "Merry Christmas." He kissed her on the cheek as the House-Elves called everyone to an early dinner.


	18. Some Things Are Better Left Unheard

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. Period. Exclamation point.

**A/N:** Welcome, everyone, to what is surely going to be the controversial eighteenth chapter of Roommates! (Somewhat in content, no, sadly, it's not dirty.) I do hope you'll enjoy it. Much thanks to James, my beta, and many other people who influenced me through the years. Also, thanks to JKR for writing these lovely characters. Hope you don't mind the delay; had banned me from updating until yesterday evening at 12:47 PM PST. Grr...

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**Eighteen **

"Blaise, you have got to take off the sweater," Hermione said to him, elbow propped up on the window-ledge of their compartment. "Really. You have to."

Blaise was lounging in the seat across from Hermione, wearing his Christmas sweater under his robes. "No," he answered. "This sweater is warm and comfortable. I don't believe I'd take it off if Snape himself demanded me to."

Hermione rolled her eyes discreetly. "How about if I told you I had another thermos of coffee that I'd give you if you took it off?"

"You might want to consider that I'm not wearing anything underneath the sweater," Blaise told her, clearly struggling with the decision of either keeping on his sweater or getting coffee.

Hermione blinked and reached up to fiddle with her tie. "Well, there is that," she admitted. "But, um, I really do, er, want you to take off the sweater. So, erm, why don't you. It's not a proper part of the uniform and I want to make a good impression on the students. I don't think we really tried too much last term and I'd like to make an effort this term. " She coughed, turning a bit pinker than normal.

Blaise grinned as he performed a warming charm on himself before he took off his robe and then peeled off his sweater, after he'd folded it. Hermione erupted into a larger coughing fit and turned fuchsia. "So," he said, leaning back in his seat, sipping the coffee directly from the thermos, "are you all right?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Hermione said, keeping her eyes firmly above his chest level. She was still bright red. "It's a bit hot in here, isn't it? Let me just open a window a tiny crack so it doesn't get completely freezing… Since it _is_ winter…" The catch on the window was stuck. "Bully," she muttered as the compartment door slid open.

"_Hermione_?" the voices of Harry, Ron and Ginny chorused.

She whipped around quickly, and saw Harry looking a bit puzzled, Ron looking strange, his ears red, and Ginny gazing at Blaise with interest written across her face. Hermione tossed Blaise's sweater at him and he pulled it on, grinning at her.

"Oh, come on now, fair play," Ginny said, casting a disappointed glance at Hermione.

"There is no reason for you to be staring at _my boyfriend's_ chest," Hermione said indignantly. '_Oops,_' she thought. '_Just let the cat out of the bag._'

"Your _what_?" Ron and Harry yelled. Ginny grabbed their robes to keep them from lunging forwards.

"Look, I meant to explain to you in a letter, but I didn't think you would like that, Harry, Ron," she continued quickly. "It's just...Blaise and I really like each other-"

"-we really do," injected Blaise.

"-and I sort of forgot to mention it," Hermione finished, elbowing Blaise. "I'm really sorry." She cast a pleading glance at them; Ginny gave them both a bit of a shove and they sat down on the compartment seats.

"Well," Harry said, glancing at the brooding Ron, "it could be worse. It could be Malfoy." Ginny coughed and turned red. Hermione flicked her an amused glance, as did Blaise. "And Blaise doesn't seem the bad sort, even for a Slytherin."

"Everyone says 'Slytherin' like it's a _bad_ thing," Blaise complained. Harry, Ron and Ginny stared at him while Hermione rolled her eyes. "Have you ever _talked_ to a Slytherin? Most of us are quite happy in our house. I am. Draco is. Pansy, I believe, is. So are Crabbe and Goyle, but they don't really count, do they? Theodore Nott is, as is Millicent Bulstrode." He blinked at them blandly. "Most of us rather like dungeons and leather sofas. The atmosphere is peaceful, sometimes."

"You _like_ being in Slytherin?" Ron asked incredulously. "_Why_?"

"I think it's rather fun," Blaise said. "And, of course, there are the House-wide sleepovers to consider…"

Ron choked. "What!" Ron said, pushing some of his hair out of his eyes.

Hermione frowned at the laughing Blaise. "That's Blaise's idea of a joke, Ron. He doesn't mean that there are sleepovers. Are there?" She looked at him.

"No," he said firmly. "Most of the girls there would be awful-looking in pajamas. I have to see them enough in unflattering school robes, why pain myself more? Plus," he added, "Snape's not that cool."

"Well, that's true," Ron conceded. He eyed Blaise. "Are you _sure_ about him, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and Blaise took her hand in his. "Yes," she said. "Absolutely."

"Well, then." Ron coughed. Everyone sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments until Ginny sighed, exasperated.

"Oh, for Heavens' sake," she said, standing up, and crossing the short distance to Blaise, holding out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Zabini." She took the hand that came out to meet hers and shook it enthusiastically.

"Nice to meet you, too," Blaise said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips and a sparkle in his eye.

Not to be outdone by Ginny, Harry stood up and shook Blaise's hand solemnly. "Be good to Hermione," he warned.

"Certainly," Blaise said, pulling a solemn look onto his face, too. They all turned to Ron, who was still sitting.

"What're you looking at?" he asked crossly. "Oh, bloody hell." He got up, briefly shook Blaise's hand and asked what his quidditch team was.

Once the train pulled into Hogsmeade and Hermione and Blaise left the others to help people with their things, he asked her about Ron.

"You never know, with Ron," she said, smiling a bit. "Though him asking you what your favorite team is like him saying, 'Oi, welcome into the fold, mate; we're watching you.'"

"So… they're still watching me?" Blaise asked, amused. "Lovely imitation, by the way."

"You pick these things up," she said absently, walking along the platform. "Yes, and they most likely will be. Forever," Hermione warned, helping a third-year with her bag. "You'll have to get used to it, I'm afraid."

Blaise was silent for a moment before she looked at him. Then he shrugged and grinned. "Eh, it's worth it," he replied. "You there! Yes, you, with the basket! No Kneazles!" He rushed after a fifth-year who was presumably trying to bring her pet Kneazle into school without permission, since she ran towards the carriages as fast as she could.

The feast that awaited them when they arrived at the castle was grand. Blaise and Hermione were almost too tired to enjoy it since they had been arguing with the fifth-year about the importation of unauthorized Magical Creatures. At the end of their 'discussion', Hermione had admitted in a rather relieved tone of voice that she was glad the student was in Hufflepuff, _not_ Gryffindor.

Hermione was so tired that she neglected to make her House-Elf liberation speech that she made for everyone sitting near her during large feasts. The rest of Gryffindor was supremely glad for that, as they really wanted to enjoy their first night back. So, after the feast, Hermione trudged up to her and Blaise's chambers alone, since Blaise "had business to settle" in the Slytherin common room. She was greeted raucously by Godric, whom she ignored and passed by to fall into bed, barely able to pull on her nightclothes. She heard when Blaise got back in the rooms, but fell asleep shortly after.

Blaise's night was nowhere near as peaceful as Hermione's. There was a power struggle at the Slytherin table between Pansy Parkinson and Millicent. Pansy won, as she always did, and flounced off to meet her boyfriend of a year, who was still a "secret boyfriend" though everyone in Slytherin knew everything about him—except his name.

After that, he got stuck hiding in an alcove midway between the Gryffindor Tower and the Slytherin dungeons and heard every word of the particularly nasty break-up of Draco and his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley.

It started off simply. Both parties said hello and Blaise thought they'd go off to wherever they went and he could continue. But no. They got into an argument about whether or not to tell people and then Draco said something that, upon Blaise's later reflection, was a completely idiotic thing to say.

"There are two reasons," Draco said angrily to Ginny, "why you don't want to tell people. Either 'A', you're embarrassed of me, which is virtually impossible, or 'B', you want to break up with me so you _aren't_ going to tell anyone about me because of that."

"God, Draco! Just because I don't want to _announce to the world_ that we're dating doesn't mean I'm embarrassed of you!" Ginny exclaimed. Blaise could hear her pacing as Draco tapped his foot on the ground.

"So that leaves one explanation," Draco said icily. "You want to break up, don't you?"

Ginny sounded a bit desperate as she said, "I didn't want to tell you this way-"

"It's Potter, isn't it?" Draco said, his voice still encrusted with ice. "That rat bastard. I _knew_ that if you went to wherever you go to spend time with him you'd-"

"It's _not_ Harry!" Ginny yelled. "God! Why does _everything_ have to revolve around Harry? You always think that I'm somehow going to _leave_ you for him!"

"Well, you are, aren't you?" Draco asked. Blaise could hear a tirade coming on, and it was probably one of nasty proportions as far as he could tell from his hiding place. "You're always asking after him. 'Oh, I wonder what Harry's doing?' 'Hmm… Harry'd like this.' 'I should tell Harry about this...we could do it together!'" Blaise heard Draco stomping around as his voice got angrier and angrier. "It's bloody obvious, Ginny. It's been bloody obvious since your first year, you just won't acknowledge it -- you're in love with Potter." At this, Blaise took a chance and peered around the edge of the alcove to see Ginny's face. Her mouth was hanging open and her face was tomato-red; she looked as if she was about to cry.

"You've known you are, and you've tried to get his attention. But he won't give you the time of day, will he? He's always panting after someone else, isn't he. Never noticing little Ginny, right. Ginny's just _background noise_, aren't you? Background noise in the life of famous Harry Potter." This, Blaise thought, was the first time he heard Draco speak Harry's name with complete and utter hatred. Before he had just disliked Harry; now he spoke of him as if he hated every fiber of Harry's being. Draco paused then, and when he spoke again, his voice was so quiet that Blaise had to strain his ears to hear him. "But she doesn't want to be, does she. So she goes after his arch-enemy in hopes of attracting the Boy Wonder. But he still doesn't notice, does he. So, over Christmas vacation, when she's alone with him, she-"

"STOP!" Ginny shrieked; the word drowned Draco's whisper and resounded through the tall walls of the corridor. "Just… _stop!_" Blaise edged over again until he could see them; Ginny was standing with one hand wiping away tears and the other clenching something in her pocket. Draco was standing across from her, face out of view, with his arms crossed in a calm position. "Why… why are you doing this?" she asked, holding back great racking sobs.

"Doing what?" Draco sneered. "I'm only doing what you did to me. You play me on a stick, waving me in front of Potter so he can see little Ginny needs to be rescued again and he doesn't see what's right in front of him. Well, Weasley, the bastard can have you and your schemes, too. So I'm going to beat you to it. I'm breaking up with you before you break up with me. Goodbye." He turned and walked away and Blaise quickly moved further into the shadows.

Ginny ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. "Wait, Draco, please!"

Draco shrugged her off and told her, without looking back, "There are two words that solve an enormous amount of problems, Weasley. I'm about to tell them to you. Bugger. Off." He strode away quicker, ignoring her cries for him to come back.

Once they were both gone, Blaise ventured out from his hiding place and ran back to his and Hermione's chambers, eager for sleep at long last. When he arrived, he ignored Godric and Salazar (who were once again fighting about something; he suspected it was some sort of décor), went into his room and stripped to his underwear before pulling on a t-shirt and pajama bottoms and crawling into bed.

Within three minutes he was asleep.

The next morning, Blaise got out of bed only after he had thoroughly demolished his Muggle alarm clock by bashing the snooze button too many times, which he knew he'd regret because it was a "souvenir" of one of his rare trips into the Muggle world. He cleaned up, got dressed quickly and rushed to the Great Hall for coffee. And food. But most of all, coffee

He saw Hermione nursing her own mug of coffee from across the hall; picking up his plate and mug, he went to sit next to her. It caused a slight stir among the few students already awake and in the Great Hall, who were mostly Ravenclaws, but too not much of one. After all, they were the Head Boy and Girl. They were allowed to sit at the same table if they wanted to.

"So," Hermione said, "it must've been a wild night in the Slytherin common room last night. You didn't get back until late."

Blaise sighed. "I got in between a break-up," he said, taking a large sip of his coffee. "One that might hold great interest to you, as a matter of fact.

Hermione perked up. "I really regret being this shallow, but I must know -- who?"

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Draco and Ginny."

"Oh, my," she said, looking at him. "What did you say to them?"

"I didn't say anything," he responded. She gave him a questioning glance. "I was hiding," he explained. "In an alcove. I didn't mean to get between them, I just sort of…heard everything. By mistake. I was actually on my way back to the chambers when I saw them coming. I didn't want to talk to anyone else, so I hid." He explained the rest to her as the hall filled with students.

"Wow," she said softly, glancing at Ginny, who had sat down across from her. Ginny's eyes were red-rimmed; she looked like she had been crying all night. Which, Blaise figured, seeing as how her boyfriend had broken up with her the previous night, she probably had been. "Ginny, are you all right?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ginny shook her head and glanced pointedly at Blaise, who took the hint. "I gather that I am not wanted," he said, smiling at Hermione and kissing her cheek. "I'll see you later, in Ancient Runes, right?"

"Right, see you," Hermione said.

Blaise walked back to the Slytherin table, leaving his plate back at the Gryffindor table, but bringing his precious coffee mug. Half the students at the Slytherin table were bent over mugs, and there were minor scuffles when people took someone else's pot of coffee or creamer or sugar. Blaise counted himself fortunate that he preferred his coffee the blackest black you could get. The rest, which were first-, second- and third-years were all sipping tea. For some reason, only the older students drank coffee.

Draco was at the head of the table with his customary two pots of coffee sitting in front of him. He nodded as Blaise reached for one and refilled his mug, sipping the fragrant liquid and smiling as it warmed him from the inside out.

"Good morning," Draco said, looking away from Gryffindor table and making small show of not acknowledging Ginny's tearful stare.

"G'morning," Blaise said through his coffee.

"Once more, with feeling, please," Draco said, poking Blaise with the back of a knife.

Blaise coughed. "Good morning, sirrah," he replied.

"Much better," Draco said. "So. Who do you think I should go out with now?"

"What?" Blaise asked, pretending to be confused.

"Oh, come on," Draco said crabbily. "You were over at the Gryffindor table. You know I broke up with Ginny," he hissed.

"Oh. Right. Yes, of course," Blaise said. "Hmm... Who should you go out with? That girl from Gryffindor, what was her name? Purple? Maroon? Lavender? Yes, Lavender. That's her name. Lavender Brown. You should ask her out."

"No more Gryffindors," Draco said, shaking his head. "None. No more!"

Blaise rolled his eyes and drank his coffee by the swallows now. "Then what about Padma Patil? She's a Ravenclaw. Smart, pretty, nice. You'd like her."

Draco considered this. "That sounds smart," he said slowly. "Nice choice, Blaise. Very nice."

"You know me," Blaise said, pouring more coffee. "The man to go to when you are looking for dating advice, coffee advice or snappy one-liners."

Draco laughed. "Right. You think that. 'Snappy'? Right…" He got up and started to walk from the room.

Blaise started after him. "Hey!" he called, following Draco. "What's the matter with my one-liners?"

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**A/N:** Well, what did you think? I'm finished with Nineteen, but I'll wait until I finish twenty :hears groans: to upload it. Sorry! Thanks for reading, and please, please review! 


	19. An Old Relationship

**Disclaimer:** I do not own it. Got that?

**A/N:** Well, here's nineteen. Submitted for the reading pleasure of you all and dedicated to my (well, _she_ says) #1 fan, Katie. Here's to you, chica, my IMing groupie.

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Nineteen

Hermione twiddled her fingers for a few moments before daring to reach over and tap Ginny's hand.

Ginny jumped and blinked over at Hermione. "Yes?"

"I…heard…that you've broken up," Hermione said gently, "with-" she looked around quickly and whispered, "-Malfoy."

Ginny smiled bitterly. "I suppose Blaise told you about Malfoy and me during the holidays," she said, twirling her spoon around in the porridge.

"No, Draco did, actually," Hermione replied. "He let it slip."

A laugh escaped Ginny's lips. "He would, wouldn't he? He wanted to tell people. Wanted them to know. Didn't see the point in keeping it a secret, really. I suppose he made it seem like a mistake, but things are rarely mistakes with him." She glanced over her shoulder at the Slytherin table. "The cold, maniacal bastard." She burst into tears. "But I loved him!"

"Really?" Hermione asked, all of her sympathy going out to her red-headed friend. "I'm so sorry."

"And the worst thing is," Ginny said, crying, "he knows!"

"What? He knows what?" Hermione looked at Ginny confused.

Ginny blushed through her tears. "Well, during the holidays Harry and I got a bit lonely because Ron was spending an awful lot of time writing to Luna Lovegood. So we hung out together mostly, talking about quidditch and playing Exploding Snap or Gobstones. Then one night he kissed me."

"He kissed you?" Hermione repeated in shock. "But he knew you were involved with someone!"

"I know," Ginny replied miserably. "But he did anyway. And then, for the rest of the holidays, we just were…together."

Hermione examined Ginny's expression critically. "You two didn't…"

"No!" Ginny said hastily. "Of course not." She fell silent as Harry and Ron sat down at the table next to Hermione.

"G'morning, Hermione, Ginny," Harry said, smiling at them both.

"Morning," Ron said to them as he started to pile food on his plate.

"Good morning," Hermione said, picking her bag up and sliding off the bench.

"So, Hermione…" Harry said smoothly, scooping porridge onto his plate. "You and Blaise Zabini?"

Hermione eyed him, slightly suspicious. "Yes. Me and Blaise."

"You do realize that Ron and I will have to conduct a more…in-depth conversation with him, don't you?" Harry took a bite of his porridge.

"You'll have to _what_?" Hermione exclaimed, her bite of grapefruit halfway to her mouth. "Did I just hear right? You want to _interview_ my _boyfriend_?"

"Yes. Is there something…wrong with that?" Ron asked through his food.

Hermione breathed in and out slowly. "Yes. If you two had any sense, you'd know that. I'll see you all later. I've got some things I need to do." They nodded at her and she heard them start to discuss Quidditch as she walked away. She used all of her willpower not to turn around and yell at them as she made her way out of the Great Hall and to the library.

She sat down in the back as she waited for the bell to ring, trying not to be annoyed with Harry and Ron her first day back at school. When she thought about it, this kind of angry frustration was much better than the strained, cold, _meticulous_ feeling that reigned in the Zabini household when Frances, Lilithe or June were present. Open annoyance was much better, in her opinion, than the closed off and repressed hostility that seemed so common in the manor.

Once the bell rang, she hurried from the library, taking care not to knock over any books on her way out. She rushed to her first class, barely making it in time and earning herself a raised eyebrow from McGonagall, who reprimanded her with a "please _try_ to be on time, Miss Granger."

Hermione slid into her seat as inconspicuously as she could manage with her bright-red face, hearing a 'tsk-tsk' sound coming from behind her. She half-turned, seeing Draco shaking his head at her with an almost smile-like smirk on his face. He was shaking his finger in her direction until McGonagall shot him a very dangerous look and he turned back to the front. Blaise was sitting behind Draco, and he flicked his quill onto Draco's neck, leaving a small black smudge on Draco's very pale skin. Blaise grinned at Hermione as she turned around, a smile growing on her face.

When the class was over, she walked out without a backwards look, heading towards her next class, Herbology.

"Hermione! Wait!" called Blaise from behind her. The people around her in the hallway stopped and stared. Very rarely did a Slytherin call after a Gryffindor, even if they were Head Boy and Girl. She turned to see him jogging towards her with Draco sauntering behind Blaise, a look of bored disdain on his face. Blaise reached her and stopped, barely breathing less than normal, and smiled down at her. "I wanted to walk you to your class," he said as Draco reached them.

"Blaise, honestly," Draco drawled. "I walked and made it two seconds after you did. Please _try_ not to be such a lovestruck idiot, will you?"

Blaise and Hermione ignored him. "You did?" she asked, still smiling from before. "Oh, Blaise, how sweet." Draco made gagging noises from behind Blaise. "Oh, shut up, Draco," she snapped at the Slytherin ringleader as Harry and Ron walked by.

"Shove it, Granger," he replied cheerfully, very carefully making sure to make a rude gesture at Harry and Ron as they stood rooted to the floor, frozen in shock.

"Hermione, did I just hear right?" Ron asked, staring at her, Draco and Blaise. "Did you just call Malfoy _Draco_?"

"Yes, Ron," Hermione said, sniggering a bit. "We spent the better part of the Christmas holidays together. He learned, thanks to Blaise, that, though I might not have the same ancestry—" Draco coughed indelicately, "—I am still a person and a bloody intelligent one at that."

"And Hermione learned that, although I have a strong influence, albeit only over physical pain, in Draco's life," Blaise said, "he still is an arrogant ponce and his opinions on most things, House-Elf liberation included, will never change."

"So you see, Ron, Harry," Hermione said sweetly, Blaise's arms around her and Draco, who was glaring at him, "people change. Not much, but still they change."

"I'll believe it," Harry said, adjusting the strap on his bag, "when I see it."

"Loitering in the halls?" asked a cold and very dangerous voice. They turned to see Snape looming behind them, a calculating sneer on his face. "My, my, my. And on the first day back at school, too. With the Head Girl part of the group. Tsk, tsk, Miss Granger." The mock-concern disappeared from his voice. "All of you, to your classes or I'll take ten points from each of you."

They fled to their classes. Blaise called after Hermione, "See you!" before Draco dragged him to their Charms class.

"So now you're friends with Malfoy?" Harry asked Hermione as they made their way to the greenhouses.

"Ooh, Hermione," Parvati said from behind them. "You're friends with _the_ Draco Malfoy? Could you get me a date?"

"Oh, that's not fair!" pouted Lavender, who was walking beside Parvati.

"'Course it is," Parvati said calmly, still eying Hermione, "you've got Seamus. Now c'mon, Hermione, set us up on a date!"

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry Parvati," she replied. "But Draco's out of a relationship and I doubt he's up for another right now, especially one with someone from Gryffindor."

"You mean he was dating someone from Gryffindor?" Lavender said pouncing on the speck of information Hermione had let out. She and Parvati pushed Harry and Ron aside and linked arms with Hermione. "Do tell."

"Sorry, can't," Hermione said, feeling a bit frightened of Lavender and Parvati's sudden interest in what she had to say.

"Then you'll just _have_ to tell us about Blaise," Parvati cooed again, head inclined towards Hermione in a knowing way. "For instance, is it true he was involved with Daphne Greengrass for two years until this summer when she dumped him for Theodore Nott?"

Hermione stared at Parvati, almost stopping in the middle of the path with shock. "_What_?" she asked. "He was dating someone? He was dating _Daphne Greengrass_? But she's four years younger than him!"

"Love," Lavender said philosophically, "knows no age. Or bounds."

"I mean," Hermione continued, not hearing Lavender, "I knew he had dated before. Even I dated before him! It's just... I always thought it'd be some faceless Italian girl, not the girl who I've been tutoring in Charms for the past three months! Why wouldn't he tell me about this? Why would he hide this from me? Is- is he _ashamed_ of what he's done- Wait, if he's ashamed that means he did something to be ashamed of! But what would he have done?"

"All excellent questions, Hermione," Lavender said, tugging her into the greenhouse. "But they'll have to wait for another time. School beckons."

Hermione followed Lavender and Parvati into the greenhouse with a million questions milling around in her head. She went through the class in a haze, but still managed to answer every question asked of her correctly, earning Gryffindor twenty points.

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**A/N:** Right. Katie had better liked this. (Wait, who am I kidding? She will. Hopefully. :gulp: ) Hope you all enjoyed and I'll be back sometime with twenty in the next bit or so. Here are some notes for you to live by until then:

I'm moving this summer, but I don't know where. My family _should_ be getting a laptop, so I would (in theory) be able to write Roommates on it and (it would be equipped with wireless Internet) then submit it, but I have no clue when I'll be getting it. I'll be trying to finish Roommates before HBP comes out, so it's not AU. I will also try not to leave you with a cliffhanger. But I make no promises. I'll try to be back with twenty in a week or two (or three, but not four, okay?), so hang tight until then.

As always, if you've got questions, I can be reached at either slytherinrules85 _at_ yahoo _dot_ com or slytherinrules85 _at_ gmail _dot_ com. Thanks for reading and please review!


	20. Blaise's Secret: Part One

**Twenty **

**Blaise's Secret: Part One**

Later that day, Hermione sat on her couch in the living room of her and Blaise's chambers twiddling a quill between her fingers, thinking about what Lavender had said about Blaise and Daphne Greengrass. True, this was only rumor and she couldn't base her entire trust in Parvati and Lavender, seeing as how they were the Gryffindor gossips, but she felt a certain grain of truth in their statement. After all, she was sure that they hadn't lied to her about anything before. At least, not something on this big of a scale.

She brought the end of the quill to her mouth and started to chew nervously. Supposing this was true, and Blaise had been dating Daphne for two years before she broke up with him last summer before they came back to school. What would Daphne's response be to her, Hermione, when they had their next session? The fact that the Head Boy and Girl came back from Christmas holidays dating was common knowledge; Hermione had heard people whispering about it as she walked through the hallways.

Being Head Girl in what was essentially a large private academy had catapulted Hermione to her own sort of fame among the students. It wasn't that she would be in the papers or even get the sort of attention Harry got, but more of the hallway and bathroom whispers as she walked by or washed her hands. And now that she was dating one of the prominent Slytherin power figures, there was more talk about her than normal.

Hermione's chain of thought was disturbed by the dinner bell and she sighed, placing her quill on the table before walking to the Great Hall by herself, so lost in thoughts about her relationship and where it was going that, when she crossed to the Gryffindor table, she missed Blaise's jovial wave. She reached Harry and Ron and slid into a seat beside them, quietly waiting for the food to appear.

While she was eating, she glanced over at the Slytherin table to see a slight girl with large and round dark eyes sitting next to a tall, lanky boy who was hunched over his food, his mess of brown hair extending in all directions. The girl was staring in Hermione's direction unblinkingly, eating without looking down. It was rather eerie and made Hermione shiver a bit before she looked back down at her food, determined to ignore Daphne's gaze until she was finished. She gave the younger girl a pointed look as she started out of the Great Hall, headed for the Library for the second time that day, and didn't notice Blaise's odd frown as he looked between Hermione and Daphne while they both walked away.

Hermione had been in the back of the Charms section for five minutes before Daphne walked in soundlessly, sitting in the seat opposite her.

"Hello, Daphne," Hermione said, trying to remain calm even though she privately admitted that the younger girl was good at making her nervous.

"Hello, Hermione," Daphne said, folding her hands in her lap. "How's Blaise?"

Hermione accidentally let a large drop of ink escape her quill as she started in her seat when the younger girl startled her with the unexpected question. "He's fine," she told Daphne, glancing up for a moment to look at her. "And how is Theodore?"

"Theo is fine," Daphne said. She looked rather uncomfortable for a moment before blurting out, "Look, do you want to keep tutoring me, or what? Because I've got better things to do if you're just going to be freaked out that I dated your boyfriend."

Hermione was taken aback for a moment, but she collected herself quickly. "No, Daphne, I'm fine. I just thought you might be a bit, well, odd about me dating Blaise."

"No, it's fine," Daphne said. She paused. "So... Thursday? Like normal?"

Hermione flipped through her schedule book. "Yes, Thursday's good." Daphne started to walk away. "Wait, Daphne, could I ask you something?" Daphne turned around and nodded. "Why did you and Blaise break up?"

Daphne's face, which had been a bit pink, suddenly went far paler than normal. "I- I don't think that would be a good thing for me to tell you, Hermione," she stammered. "You should just ask Blaise." She fled as soon as the last syllable came out of her mouth and Hermione sat in her chair, frowning into space, wondering why Daphne wouldn't want to tell her.

Two hours later Hermione made her way back her chambers, tired from all her studying and craving a cup of tea and a hot bath. And, a classic novel. However, when she went through the portrait and entered the living room, she was greeted by the sight of a small, romantic, candlelit table on which there was a tray of dessert. Blaise sat at the opposite end of the table, smiling at her until she met his eyes, when his smile faltered for a moment and a crinkle of disappointment appeared between his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, going to scoot the chair back for her. She ignored the chair and picked up a plate of pie and a fork.

"Blaise," Hermione replied, examining the ice cream and chocolates that came with the pie, "I'm tired, sorry. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning. This was a lovely thought, though. Perhaps another time?" She gave him a light, cold, fish-like kiss on the cheek before going into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Setting the plate down carefully on her desk, she walked calmly over to her bed, lay down and pressed her face into a pillow, letting out a long and loud scream. A moment later there was a knock on the door and Blaise's voice asked, "Are you okay?" a bit frantically.

Hermione padded over to the door and opened it a crack, replying, "It's called primal scream therapy, Blaise. I find it very helpful. Good night."

Blaise walked away, feeling somewhat cheated. He had gone to an extreme amount of effort getting all of this done—he didn't even asked the house-elves for help!—and Hermione just ignored it and went to bed. He sat down at the table and brought his runic charm necklace out, looking at it and turning it round and round. Finally, he undid the clasp and took the necklace off. Immediately, his hand went to his temple and he winced momentarily. He looked towards Hermione's room and squinted, as if zooming in on something. A second later, he shook his head and gave up, putting the necklace back on and sighing, relieved. Since Hermione didn't want to spend time together that night, he'd just have to go to bed. So he got up and went to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

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The next morning Hermione tiptoed out of her room to use the bathroom and then snuck out of the chambers, ignoring the Founder's portrait where Godric was telling her not to be so afraid of conflict. _'What are you, a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff?'_ That remark got him a glare from Helga, and a poke from Rowena. Hermione didn't notice this, as she was already halfway down to the Great Hall. It was empty when she reached it, and she began pacing the length of Gryffindor table, muttering to herself about how she should ask Blaise about his and Daphne's breakup.

But when Blaise came into the Great Hall twenty minutes later, rubbing his temples and murmuring to himself, he glanced at her and immediately swerved from her direction and went to sit at the farthest end of the Slytherin table from her, his back to her. She frowned at the back of his head and sat in her chair, anxiously tapping her knife against the table. The murmurings from Blaise grew louder and louder until he stood up and yelled at the only other Slytherins at his table, two third-years sitting at the other end, before stomping out of the Hall angrily.

Hermione tried to talk to him all day, but he was avoiding her, she could tell. She would walk into a room and he'd melt out of the other door, barely a glimpse in the corner of her eye. She finally gave up after dinner ended and went to the library. As she walked through the potions section, looking for something that would help her with Snape's latest assignment, she heard her boyfriend's voice on the other side of the aisle. She stood still, breathing quietly, trying to hear what he was saying.

"-didn't tell her, did you?" Hermione heard Blaise say, sounding a bit frantic.

"Of course not!" said the voice of Daphne Greengrass. "I knew you wouldn't want her to know, unless you told her yourself. It's too important, I know."

Hermione heard Blaise sigh. "Sorry for thinking you'd tell her," she heard him say. "It's just...just that I don't want it and...and I hate that I can't control it."

Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. She marched around the shelves and demanded rather loudly, "Can't control _what_, Blaise Zabini?"

Blaise whirled around guiltily and Daphne turned white. "It's not your business, Hermione," he warned. "Not at all. It's between me and Daphne."

"What's between you and Daphne?" Hermione asked, suspicions going in and around her mind like a tornado. "Not a..." she gulped, "not a...baby, Blaise. Please, tell me not a baby."

"A baby?" Blaise's expression twisted from guilty to puzzled. "No, why would you think that, Hermione?"

"You said, 'between me and Daphne', so I suppose I just jumped to conclusions," Hermione replied, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers, blushing out of embarrassment.

Blaise sighed and rubbed his forehead in a slightly defeated manner. "Daph," he said to the pale girl behind him, "you can go. I'll explain. Don't worry."

"All right," Daphne said. "I'll see you in the common room tonight?"

"Yes. Theo and I have got a Gobstones tournament going on this week," he told her. "Go on, I'll see you."

"Right. Good luck," she added, walking away quickly.

Blaise rubbed his forehead again, pacing, trying to think of how to phrase what he had to say. "Hermione...you have to understand something before I tell you what I'm going to tell you..." He looked at Hermione and she nodded, biting her lip in anticipation of the worst. "Daphne and I are just friends. We broke up because, well, something happened that was very...unfortunate." He sat down in a chair by a nearby fireplace and motioned for Hermione to sit. "There's something quite different about me, Hermione. In some ways I'm quite like Lilithe. This necklace-" he picked the runic charm necklace from out under his shirt, "-is not entirely used to block her out. It's also used to block thoughts from coming into my mind."

Hermione blinked at him. "What?" she asked.

Blaise sighed again. "I'm a mind reader, too, Hermione. Just in a different way. Thoughts just spill into my head without me being willing to read them. I've been like this since I was three. It's why Lilithe dislikes me—she had to work on her ability to read minds at will. Before she did, she would only occasionally be able to hear thoughts. Of course, she had mastered it only a few years before I was born. But thoughts would just come to me and that irritated her for some reason. However, as a three-year-old, I couldn't understand why my older sister would continually be as mean and nasty to me as she could possibly be without physically harming me."

He paused for a moment and then went on, "Anyway, Dad decided to send me to Hogwarts so I would be out of Lilithe's way. I don't think I ever mentioned this to you—she's a professor at Isola. She teaches their version of combined Divination and Mind Reading. A lot of students who go to Isola are mind readers. They like the mind readers to try and read the minds of the instructors during the exam—never mind it's cheating; they think that it's being resourceful." He scoffed and tipped back in his chair. "But I couldn't help hearing the instructor's thoughts; they mixed up with my own frantic ones and so I used them, unable to tell his from mine. So, consequently, I got a perfect score on my examinations. Isola knew right away what I was. They said I'd be perfect for their accelerated mind reading program; Dad knew what that meant: Lil as my teacher. And he knew that she'd make my life hell because before I came along she was their pet mind reader. So he politely declined and they cut him off from using their library, which was a mistake because he never returns library books; a quarter of his books in the 'History of Magical Cultures' section of our library in Italy were originally theirs.

"And that's my secret," he told her, putting his chair back on all fours.

"But not what's between you and Daphne," Hermione pointed out, still twisting her hair between her fingers.

Blaise smirked a bit. "Hermione, I just told you a secret very few people—outside my family, of course—know. I would think you'd be happy to overanalyze this before you go worrying about what's between Daph and me. Though, to be fair, it does include Snape," he added.

"Snape?" Hermione asked, leaning forward. "What about Snape?"

"Oh, would you look at the time?" Blaise said, glancing down at his watch. "It's been thirty minutes. I've got to be getting down to the common room." He went over and kissed Hermione's head. "See you."

"What about Snape?" she called after him. Blaise just turned and grinned at her before waving and disappearing towards the door.


	21. Blaise's Secret: Part Two

**07/07/05**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. Unfortunately.

**A/N:** Well, here's chapter twenty one. I do hope you enjoy it, I believe I've made you all wait an awful long time for it so you deserve this. I will let you know that this is a heavy PG13, with some slightly graphic scenes showing Death Eater activities. I don't think it's all that bad, but you should read it, since it does contain things that are tied to the plotline for the next few chapters. Anyway, thanks to James, my beta, and to my friend Emily (haha, Elle, I know you'll be surprised; I ran some things by Emily when she stayed at my house a while ago) for listening to my story ideas while knowing nothing about it. I hope you enjoy the chapter and please read and review!

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**Twenty One **

**Blaise's Secret: Part Two**

Blaise walked down to the Slytherin common room carefully, as to not have his footsteps echo throughout the hallways. While he was allied with neither Hermione's "Order" nor the Death Eaters, he certainly didn't want to catch inebriated sixth- or seventh-year neophyte-Death Eater Slytherins unawares in the darkened corridors. He wanted no part in the conflict at the moment and held his impartiality at a great price.

He muttered the password—'Strategy, Ivan, Strategy', a quote from Salazar Slytherin's autobiography, required reading from Snape once you entered your fifth year—and entered the dungeon quietly, making his way over to Theodore, who was sitting in the corner with Daphne, contemplating his first move with the impending game against Blaise.

"You told her?" Daphne asked as he sat down in a large padded leather chair opposite Theodore, looking at him anxiously.

"Just my part of it. Not about Claire, Daph," Blaise replied tiredly. "I won't tell anyone that — not without your permission." He nodded towards the portrait of their House's namesake that marked Snape's private entrance to his House's common room and continued, "Nor without his." He grinned. "Surely you don't think me that idiotic?"

"If only you wouldn't act like it," Theodore said absently, making his move, "we wouldn't think it. Your turn."

"Blow it, Theo, why are you so brilliant?" Blaise asked, moving his piece. "Oh wait, I know. So that I can eclipse you."

"In your dreams, Zabini."

"More like yours," Blaise countered a bit more cheerfully as Draco came over with his entourage.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, his tone more aristocratic than normal. He nodded slightly towards Yancey Montague, the younger brother of the former Slytherin Beater, a son of an 'at large' Death Eater.

"Gobstones, Draco," Theodore responded, his voice still detached. "Surely you can't be so full of yourself that you've forgotten all of the Wizarding youth's culture and entertainment?" He turned his pale eyes on Draco, who backed away, annoyed. Draco had always been wary of Theodore, knowing he was very bright and cunning—much more so than he was.

"Just making a joke, Nott," Draco sneered. "Surely you can't be so far removed from the world that you don't understand humor?"

"Humor? Oh yes, the thing which people find amusing. Ha. Ha." Theodore turned back to the board, but Blaise would have sworn Theodore had winked at him as his head went down to focus on the pieces.

Draco retreated, the young Montague at his heels, no doubt lapping up his "knowledge of power over others." Blaise shook his head silently, causing his hair to fall onto his face. He tossed it back, he moved his next piece, thinking back on his discussion with Hermione.

Theodore, with who had been friends with Blaise for several years, dating back to before his relationship with Daphne, noticed the crease that appeared in Blaise's forehead and the way Blaise was tapping out an unheard rhythm on the table's edge. "Blaise?" he said. Blaise looked up. "You can stay in the dormitory tonight; the House Elves didn't move all of your clothes, in case you'd forgotten." He paused for a moment and then went on. "But only if you'd like to."

Blaise smiled for the first time that day. "Thanks mate. I had forgotten and I think I will. I like Hermione and all...but sometimes I can't stand her questions. It's nice to spend time with someone who knows the backstory, I think. Someone who doesn't ask about anything; just lets it lie."

"I understand," Theodore said. A small smile crept up on his face as he moved his piece and it spat a disgusting-smelling liquid into Blaise's face. "Your move."

"Next time," Blaise grumbled after he'd muttered a 'Scorgify' at his face, "we're playing chess." He made a face at Theodore. "If solely for the reason that I can kick your arse in chess."

₤₤₤₤₤₤₤

The next morning Blaise got up and ready before everyone else and went to the Great Hall a bit slowly, feeling guilty for just walking off like that, leaving Hermione full of so many questions. Then he thought about what would happen if he had told her the connection between Snape, Daphne and him and he shuddered. The world did not need to know what had happened between them; didn't need to know that Blaise knew one of Snape's darkest secrets—one that led to the end of his relationship with Daphne.

He remembered the day so well. It was the end of sixth year, near finals, when tensions were running high. His charm necklace had broken in the shower three days before and the makeshift charm ring his father had sent his wasn't working as well. Thoughts that came from strong minds were penetrating the defense. He heard McGonagall thinking of the 'guard duty,' Hermione of her grades and Potter thinking of the criminal, Sirius Black. He was unlucky that day to bump into his professor— it was May 28th, he remembered. A day in which, for some reason, Snape was more volatile than normal, able to blow up at anyone for any sort of excuse. And Blaise ran right into him as he was walking down the hallway to lunch. The force of the memory that was running through Snape's mind knocked Blaise over and he blacked out of consciousness and became immersed in the memory.

It was dark. Midnight, most likely, or close to it. He was standing on a street that was lit by the pale, but still luminous, light of street lamps. In front of him were a much younger Snape and a young woman, face obscured by the darkness. They were obviously drunk and were making loud remarks about the inferiority of Muggles—how they should be exterminated and how Voldemort was going to help them do it—when a girl, no more than fifteen, walked past them, arms crossed and scared-looking.

Snape let go of the woman's hand and nodded to her, approaching the girl and asking, "Miss, d'you have the time?" When the girl turned around to answer him, he lifted him wand to her throat and hissed, "_Crucio_." The girl collapsed on the ground, screaming in pain. The woman with him laughed and waved her wand and a gold glow covered the houses lining the streets, keeping the residents from hearing the girl's pain-filled cries.

When he had tortured her enough, he moved his wand away from her and asked the girl her name. She sobbed out, "Claire Greengrass," before passing out. Snape and his companion laughed. The woman pointed her wand at the girl and said, "_Ennervate_."

When the girl woke, moments later, she tried to crawl away. As she did, Snape and the woman allowed her, occasionally sending _Crucio_'s at her and laughing until tears ran down their faces at her anguished cries of pain. Finally, when she was leaning up against a white picket fence, trying to undo the latch, knowing that what was between her and death was her stuck latch, they advanced on her and Snape woman drew his wand and pointed it at her, laughing and saying, "Good-bye, Claire. _Avada Kedavra_."

Once the last syllable had been uttered, there was a loud rushing sound and then nothing but green light as Claire screamed for a second. And then...nothing. Claire's body, a lifeless shell, lay there, propped up against the fence, latch clutched in her hand tightly, left there for her father and younger sister to find the next morning on their way to get milk for her mother. Snape and the woman considered none of this. They kicked Claire's body two or three times and then the woman grabbed Snape's collar roughly, kissing him deeply for a moment, and then letting him go.

She seemed to pout for a moment, saying, "It's your turn, Severus. I don't think I ever get to do both. It's not fair."

"Darling," Snape said, and Blaise cringed, "next time you can do both. I won't deny you the pleasure of purifying and placing our stamp once more. And, if you're lucky, we'll get two in one night."

"Cast the spell, Severus," the woman purred, clearly placated, "and we'll see who's lucky when we get home."

Snape smirked at her and then raised his wand skyward. "_MORSMORDRE_," he shouted. The Dark Mark hurled out of his wand and planted itself in the sky above the small white house that Claire Greengrass lay before. Snape and the woman laughed once more and Apparated away.

Blaise then woke up and sat straight up, his clothes drenched in a cold sweat, fear tingling down his spine as he saw who sat by his bed. Snape sat by his left side, a knowing and slightly angry look on his face.

"What did you see?" Snape had asked.

"You- Her-" Blaise had sputtered, unable to form sentences.

"_What did you see_?" Snape had demanded, placing his hands on the edge of the bed and clenching it.

"All of it," Blaise had whispered shakily.

"All of it?" Snape echoed hoarsely.

"Until you Apparated away." Blaise edged away from Snape's hands, which were whiter than normal, the blood draining away from them.

"I see." Snape stood and walked a few paces away, then turned abruptly back to Blaise. "Tell _no one_," he instructed Blaise before leaving him to Madame Pomfrey's care.

But now, as Blaise walked up the stairs that came out right next to the Great Hall, reflecting on this memory now implanted in his head, though it was not his own, he knew it was something that he could never tell Hermione, no matter how far their relationship ever advanced, even if they got married eventually. She could never know. Not without Snape's—and Daphne's—permission. He remembered how he had recognized Claire before Snape had asked her name. He'd seen pictures of her in the Greengrass' house when he'd gone over there the summer between fifth and sixth year. When he'd asked about her, Daphne had told him how her older sister—older than her by twelve years—a Squib, was killed by Death Eaters when she was six. She had then gone on to inform him that she'd been with her father when they found her by their front gate, stiff with rigor mortis and clutching the latch, as if she had been trying to open it when she died.

And then, the next summer, he couldn't hold it any longer. He told Daphne what had happened and she cried and screamed at him to leave, to never come back. Once school started again, he found she was dating Theodore Nott and they became friends again, not mentioning what he had told her until Hermione approached her about why they had broken up.

At the moment he entered the Great Hall he suddenly realized who Snape's female companion had been: his sister, Lilithe. He supposed he had secretly suppressed the thought of Lilithe being a Death Eater—after all, he did not want to think of his sister as someone so horribly bigoted and murderous towards people who had never done anything but exist. He also realized that he'd suppressed the urge to connect the memory-woman's partially-shown face and mocking voice to his sister's profile and normal lofty and superior tone. It struck him strangely. He had known for a few weeks that Lilithe was—and had been for sometime—a Death Eater. Still, the thought playing over and over again in his mind was an image of his Head of House and oldest sister murdering the elder sister of his ex-girlfriend, who was once his best friend.

He sat at the Slytherin table and leaned back in his seat lazily, seeing Hermione excuse herself from the Gryffindor table and come to sit next to him. He saw her open her mouth from the corner of his eye and headed her off, saying, "I know what you're going to ask, Hermione."

"How in the world could you know that?" she asked, somewhat crabbily.

He smiled, amused. "I know you too well. Besides, it's what anyone with three brain cells would ask after hearing what I said yesterday night." He turned to her. "I can't tell you."

"Blaise, it can't be-" Hermione started.

"I _can't_," he replied.

"Or won't?" Hermione said, frowning at him.

"Both," he said. "It's just something you're going to have to live with. I can't tell you unless two people give me their consent and one of them never will. One of them doesn't even know another—besides me—knows. I refuse to break their trust, Hermione. Not when it would hurt people I care about." He thought about what Snape's reaction—who didn't know anyone but Blaise knew of his memory—would be if he knew Blaise had told Daphne. He also wondered what would happen if he told Hermione and Snape found out. Of course, he wasn't being entirely truthful with Hermione. There was another person in the equation, but he wasn't inclined to go up to Lilithe and tell her he had a memory of her murdering his ex's older sister, simply for being a Squib.

Hermione sighed. "I understand," she told him. "I feel that way sometimes with Ron and Harry."

"Do you, now?" Blaise asked in a teasing manner. "Do tell."

"You first," she replied, smiling at him and standing.

He stood as well. "Hermione Granger, I do believe we've reached an impasse."

"Yes, I think so, too," Hermione said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my toast is waiting."

She turned to go back to her table, but Blaise grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him, kissing her for several moments—giving Lavender and Parvati the chance to call at them—before letting her go and saying he'd see her in class.

* * *

**A/N:** That's chapter twenty one! I hope you've enjoyed it and that it has sustained you for a little while longer. (BTW: my laptop went spazzy a second ago so if there's a 'ile' somewhere where it doesn't fit, disregard it please.) I'm posting the ages for the characters that are main in the next few chapters. Of course, it's all subject to change, so I might change it once I go over it all again when I finish the fic around chapter thirty (or so).

So here are the ages: Blaise seventeen, Hermione eighteen, Lilithe Zabini thirty-three, Severus Snape: (purely speculation, forgive me if I'm wrong) thirty-nine/forty.

Anyway, I'll forwarn you here to keep these ages in mind (or around it) for the next few chapters. Huge, huge thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed and please do so again!


	22. A Dangerous Question

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Here it is! So sorry for waiting so long to update; I know I'm evil, but life's been getting in the way. I have, however, got chps. 23-26 written and am now working on 27. Chapter 24 is with my beta, but you guys will probably have to wait a bit as I haven't yet gone over 23 and done what's been left by my beta. (Bad me.)

With that said, thanks to my extroidenary beta, James, for sticking through me and my wacky writing ideas for twenty four chapters so far and what will probably be at least six more.

Thank you also to you, my wonderful, wonderful readers for staying with me through my horribly erratic updating schedule. For that, I shall put twenty three up as soon as I can.

* * *

Twenty Two

Blaise watched her go and shook his head, turning back to his porridge. He felt a bit bad for lying to Hermione about Snape's memory, but he couldn't see a way to tell her and keep everyone else out of it and satisfied—or without somehow letting Snape know he'd told Daphne. Though, knowing Snape, he probably knew and Blaise just couldn't tell, since Snape was such a temperamental person at the best of times. He glanced at Snape just as the man looked up and glared at the student body in general, his greasy hair falling over his face as he did so.

As Blaise watched his Head of House, his mind wandered back to that overheard conversation between Snape and Lilithe. His mind perused through everything said between the two—most of it was self-explanatory: they were ex-lovers and bitter towards each other. However, one part of it didn't fit with the rest. In fact, it stuck out like a sore thumb, as it seemed to Blaise.

"_You couldn't kill me, Severus. And if you did, it would haunt you for the rest of your life. You never could kill people. That was your weak point. Oh, a backbone. Bravo, Severus. I see that the brats of the Wizarding elite have toughened you up to my sharpened claws." _

"_You forget, Lilithe, about what I said, all those years ago."_

"_I forget nothing, Severus. You know that." _

The rest, as it seemed to Blaise, had fit into the larger puzzle easily, or it had after being tried in one or two different places. But this one point in the conversation didn't fit, not even with the edges cut off and maneuvered into eighty different places. There was obviously a missing piece that would connect with this one, but what it was puzzled and almost even disturbed Blaise.

He ran his spoon around the edges of his bowl and his face contorted into a thoughtful frown as he cut off even more corners and tried to force it to fit. His efforts were fruitless and soon he threw his fork down and glared, sulking, at his plate.

All of a sudden Draco appeared in the seat across from Blaise, banging his bag down next to him, smirking in an overly cheerful way. "A penny for your thoughts, friend," Draco said.

Blaise transferred his glare to Draco. Even his _tone_ was far too cheerful. "If you don't wipe that grin off your face, I'll-"

"Smash my face in? Or, perhaps," Draco took Blaise's spoon from his hand gently, "carve my heart out? With a spoon?"

"You would be lucky to have either happen to you," Blaise said. "But, I will not hurt you as I am far too tired to inflict punishment upon the body of such a dear friend."

Draco suppressed a laugh. "I am sure. Completely sure. But, sureness aside, we have to talk about Quidditch. The spring final is coming up and we're up against Gryffindor again…"

Blaise grimaced in pain at the memory of the last Gryffindor-Slytherin game. It had not gone well – Slytherin lost 10-240. Draco's decision to put Crabbe and Goyle as Beaters again that year was not a good one. Rumor had it that they had done some...experimenting...with Muggle hallucinogenic drugs that summer. No one knew how they would get them; but occasionally they would be found in the bathrooms talking on and on about daises growing out of the walls and the brightly colored three-dimensional cubes rotating around their heads. Of course, Gryffindor's Beaters were much better; not as good as the Weasley twins were, but almost.

With their defense off in fairy world and Gryffindor's being the all-around best, their Chasers only made it close to the goal posts once. And the only time one of the Gryffindor team was almost injured was when Potter almost fell off of his broom, rolling with laughter as he watched Crabbe and Goyle sway to the unheard tune going around in their heads as they gazed at the flags that people in the stands were waving.

Needless to say, it had been the most embarrassing loss for Slytherin since Charlie Weasley had been on Gryffindor, along with his twin brothers. For weeks afterward the mere mention of it would send Slytherins into either an ashamed and agonized attitude or into a thundering rage about how they would win next time round.

And now, they would have to play against each other again in the finals, as the two best teams. Of course, their victory against Ravenclaw was entirely by chance...but no need to bicker about it now. Blaise glanced over to the Gryffindor table to see the Gryffindor Team huddled around their breakfast as Potter, who was naturally the team Captain, made obscure motions with his hands. The groups around him nodded intelligibly, obviously understanding whatever he was saying with perfect clarity. Blaise's eyes drifted to Hermione, who was sitting a little bit away from the team, looked up at him, nodded at the team and rolled her eyes at him, before going back to her book.

Blaise turned back to Draco, who had assembled the Slytherin team while his mind had wandered. Blaise's thoughts drifted back to the conversation and, most especially, the part that didn't fit with anything he knew.

That afternoon, as Blaise walked down to Potions—the last class of the day—with his book tucked under his arm, he wondered if admitting he had overheard Snape's conversation with Lilithe would be worth whatever punishment Snape could think up, just to find out what they were referring to. The only thing he could think of that would fit with what was said was that Snape refused to kill someone – and that Lilithe didn't. It occurred to him that Lilithe must have been exaggerating about Snape never having been able to kill people; after all, it was probably a requirement, a part of the initiation, if you will.

He decided that he would ask Hermione while Snape was doing his weekly rampage on Neville Longbottom. That is, he would _try_ and ask Hermione, since she was usually trying to hiss advice to Neville as the boy tried not to break down into tears.

He walked into the dungeon classroom and successfully avoided the volatile teacher's erratic line of vision, making his way carefully to his and Hermione's desk, sitting on the free stool, nudging her gently.

"I will never know how you and Draco are able to saunter in here five minutes late and not get detention or points taken off," Hermione whispered to Blaise. He started to smirk at her as the low and cold voice of Snape said, "Talking during class, Miss Granger? I think that'll have to be five p-"

"Sir, she was telling me what we were doing today," Blaise said, flicking a quick glance at the blackboard before Snape's gaze turned sharply to him.

"Really, Zabini? And what, pray tell, are we doing today?" Snape's mouth curled into a slightly triumphant sneer. As much as he favored his students, defiance from one of them, especially when defending a _Gryffindor_, and the resident Know-It-All at that, would not be tolerated.

"The benefits of powdered Leprechaun gold in potions, sir. Branching off of our larger class study of the benefits of powdered substances belonging to magical creatures. Leprechaun gold this week, dried Veela perfume last week and the rare powdered unicorn horn, harvested from a naturally deceased unicorn that freely gave it, of course, sir," Blaise said, maintaining a blank face as Snape's face went from triumphant arrogance to plain irritation.

"Very good, Zabini. However, I saw you look at the board before answering me, so obviously you had not ascertained that information from Miss Granger. Therefore, Miss Granger, Gryffindor looses five points. And, of course, five points to Slytherin for Mr. Zabini's cleverness at guessing the next week's lesson before I had ever mentioned it." Snape's gaze, which was still directed at Blaise, hardened. "Can you possibly inform the class as to _how_ you knew the subject of next week's lesson?"

"It's only logic, sir," Blaise replied, blank expression still in place. "At the start of the powdered substances we started with the properties of pixie dust; so logically we would proceed to the more and more complicated and powerful substances as the unit progressed. Dried Veela perfume—which I understand is made out of their sweat, of all things—and powdered Leprechaun gold are interchangeable, as neither has more magical properties than the other, but there are enough details about them to go into a week-long segment on both. I clearly remember the overpowering scent of the Veela perfume so I deduced that we would be doing Leprechaun gold this week, leaving next week, the last week in the unit, for the most powerful that we would be encountering: powdered unicorn horn."

"Such an eloquent response, Mr. Zabini," Snape purred.

"I wouldn't know, sir," Blaise said.

The corners of Snape's mouth then twisted upwards in a previously unknown way and moved to such a position so that it might be referred to as a _smile_. There was a wave of small gasps. The phenomenon was soon over as Snape glared at all the gasping Gryffindors—and quite a few of the Slytherins—before walking back to the board to start writing down the main points in his upcoming lecture.

Draco leaned down from the table behind Blaise and Hermione and hissed in Blaise's ear, "I really, really hope he hasn't gotten in Crabbe and Goyle's pills. Imagine having to drag _him_ out of the bathroom with everyone hearing him go on and on about daisies in the toilet."

Blaise let off a small laugh and leaned over to Hermione. "Once class is done, I have to speak to you. It's really important, so make sure Potter and Weasley don't follow us around 'chaperoning', all right?"

"All right," she murmured in reply, stirring their potion. "Now, no more talking; I don't want to loose any more points."

Blaise scoffed. "After that win over Slytherin? And Ravenclaw? _And_ Hufflepuff? The whole of Gryffindor House could gang up on Snape and attack him and still be the leader in the House points."

Hermione laughed. "Only half, really."

"Only half what?"

She looked up at him and smiled, amused. "Only half could and we'd still be in the running," Hermione told him.

"Evaluated this, have you?" He grinned.

"Harry and Ron asked me to," she said. "Now, shh, I'm trying to remember how many times I've stirred this."

"Write a foot and a half—no, there isn't any extra credit, now put your hand down, Miss Granger—about the magical properties and uses of what we've just studied and hand it in on Friday. I want examples of potions, too, Weasley, not just some facts you've picked up by reading over Granger's shoulder. And it had better be the whole foot and a half, Miss Brown, or I shall have to deduct more points from Gryffindor. Class dismissed."

Blaise and Hermione gathered up their books and Hermione started to swing her bag onto her shoulder when Blaise took it from her and put his book in and then proceeded to carry it for her (and, and, and). When he looked at her puzzled glance, he explained, "When you carry your bag, you won't hold my hand." He flushed a bit. "I, er, sort of wanted to...um, hold your hand."

Hermione smiled and inserted interlaced her fingers with his. "There. Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Blaise glanced around at the milling, cheerful students. "Not here," he told her. "How about you go do whatever you need to, and then meet me back in our rooms in half an hour? Because now that I think about it, I need some time to think about what I want to say."

Hermione glanced at her watch. "All right," she agreed. "I've got to give Harry and Ron some titles of potions texts, show them the potions section in the library and then give them my ten-minute lecture about how they can use my notes but not copy what I say, exactly."

"Okay, see you then." He leaned down and kissed her quickly, eliciting giggles from the group of second-years standing five feet away. He grinned sheepishly at them and squeezed Hermione's hand before walking away in the direction of their rooms.

When Blaise arrived back at their chambers, he put Hermione's bag in her room before pacing around the living room, ignoring the paintings' protests that he was wearing a hole in their carpets. He was worried that she would blow up in his face, tell him he was a complete imbecile and that she thought whatever it was had been resolved and to leave it alone. Most of all, though, he was afraid she would break up with him, deciding that he'd finally crossed the line from adorably weird to certifiably insane and that she'd had enough of it.

Hermione walked in twenty minutes after he had started pacing. She stared at him as he made another circuit around the sofas and chairs before coming over to lead her to a sofa so she could sit down.

"What's this about, Blaise?" she asked, genuinely worried by this time. "In the Muggle world, people are usually only this serious when they tell their family they're dying from cancer or something." Her eyes widened. "You aren't _dying_, are you? Oh no, _Blaise_!" She sniffed, preparing to cry.

"No, I'm not dying," he said hurriedly. "But it might be just as serious." He watched her wipe a tear from her eye. "_Please_ don't cry; I don't like it when you do. And I'd hate it if you cried because of me." He reached out and wiped another tear from her face with his fingers. "I don't ever want you to cry over me, Hermione," he said softly.

She smiled up at him, her tear-filled eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "That's not something I can promise not to do. What if you join the Order? When Voldemort attacks you- you could be _killed_. I would cry then, Blaise. I don't think I couldn't, if that happened."

"Then I give you permission to cry when I'm dead," Blaise replied solemnly. "But not before then. If I just disappear, then look for me, but don't cry. All right?" He smiled a bit at her. "Do we have a deal?"

"I'll only cry when you're dead," Hermione promised.

"Good. Now, on to what I was _really_ going to say," he said crisply. "D'you remember that conversation we overheard? The one Snape and Lilithe were having?"

Hermione laughed a bit, the tears disappearing from her eyes. "Yes; how could I forget? You think of ex-lovers not getting along, but not to _that_ extent."

"Well, I've been thinking about the part where Lilithe said something like, 'You never could kill people, Severus.' And then he replied, 'You forget about what I said.' Or something like that. Anyway, I've been wondering lately what exactly he said to her. And what she told him. Actually, I've just been wondering what happened to them; why he left the Death Eaters to become a spy and why she became one in the first place. And," he breathed in a deep breath, "I'd really like to find out. From him." He braced himself for the rush of disapproval.

"The thing about finding that out would be finding it out in a way that would make him want to tell us," Hermione mused. Blaise blinked at her, surprised that she wasn't angry. "For example, if you went up to Snape and said, 'My sister's an evil Death Eater bitch, can you tell me why,' that would probably not elicit a linked at response from him. At least, not the sort of response that we _want_." Blaise blinked at her. "But, then again, if you really want to find out so much—and I must admit, I do want to know, too—then you could always go to his office and try and ask him how he first met Lilithe. If he protests that you don't need to know, then you could always just tell him that she's your sister and you need to know because you have to know if she's really a Death Eater or just an independent operator of evil." She looked at his gaping face. "What d'you think?"

"I think that if I just asked you for advice on everything I'd never have to stick my foot in my mouth again," Blaise said. Hermione laughed. "But I like the idea of going to Snape's office and asking him."

"Then go," Hermione said, moving to face him more directly.

"What?" Blaise asked.

"Go," she said. "Go to his office and ask. Tonight."

"I can't go tonight!" he protested. "I- I have Quidditch practice!"

"The pitch is booked by Gryffindor until the middle of next week," Hermione said primly. "And I happen to know Snape is in his office until midnight on Wednesdays. He can't go anywhere if you corner him there! Go on; go ask him."

"But-" Blaise began.

Fifteen minutes later he was standing outside of Snape's office door with Hermione motioning him to knock from halfway down the hallway. Fiddling with his necklace, he gulped and knocked. Hearing Snape call "Enter," he went in and closed the door behind him, sitting on the chair in front of the professor's desk.

Snape looked at him from behind three stacks of tests. "What do you want, Zabini?" he asked irritably. "As you can see, I've got some work to do. So make it quick."

"I'll try, sir," Blaise said. He gulped again.

After a few moments of silence, Snape looked up and glared at him again. "Get on with it, boy! What do you want?"

Blaise said quickly, "Sir, how did you first meet my sister Lilithe? Did she become a Death Eater at the same time as you, or did she get recruited afterwards or before?"

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you like it, even though it's the most filler-ish chapter I've had in a while. I've got a chapter chock full of angst coming up in a bit, which I hope you will all enjoy, more details coming up in about two chapters.

Now, please, please review!


	23. The Damning Answer

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd be living in a five bedroom mansion in Scotland and my name would be JK Rowling.

**A/N:** Well, I'm updating sooner than I did last time, I think! Here's chapter twenty-three and I hope you enjoy it a lot! I'll put twenty four up sometime in the next few weeks, but I'm starting school Monday and I'm not sure if I'll have a whole lot of time for a few weeks.

* * *

**Twenty Three**

Snape placed his papers down on his desk and stared at him in silence for a few seconds. "Excuse me?" he said slowly, danger building in his voice with every syllable.

Blaise took a deep breath and repeated his question "How did you first meet Lilithe?" Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I thought that I must have misheard, Zabini. Obviously I was wrong. What insane thought provoked you to even _think_ of asking me such a thing?" Snape stared at Blaise, his face an emotionless mask.

The lack of emotion was what scared Blaise. If Snape had been angry, he would've known that it would have—eventually—turned out all right. But the sight of Snape sitting there impassively with his dark, cold eyes trained on him made Blaise break into a cold sweat. "Well, sir, I was in the library during Christmas break. I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between you and my sister and I wondered how you two had first met. And, um, if you met after becoming Death Eaters or if you became Death Eaters at the same time."

Snape rose slowly from his seat. "Why are you asking me this, Zabini? I was under the impression you were neutral in your… political… beliefs." He waved aside Blaise's attempt at answering, leaning across the table, black eyes starting to burn with cold fury. "And what, Mr. Zabini, makes you think that I'm not still a Death Eater?"

Blaise resisted the urge to lean backwards, away from Snape's very angry face, since he wasn't sure Snape was below biting people. "Well, sir, I asked Hermione about it-"

"So. Now _Granger_ knows?" Snape said in low tones.

"I just asked her about you being a Death Eater!" Blaise protested, hoping Snape wasn't as good as reading a lie as he was reputed to be. "I never said anything about the conversation!" Deciding that he was in deep enough of a hole that he could venture a go at it, he continued to say, "Besides, sir, she's my sister and I would really like to know so my parents could be duly informed."

Snape glared at him. Blaise sighed inwardly. But only a small sigh, since he didn't know if he was out of the woods yet. "How do you know that they don't know already?" Snape asked, not letting his mask slip.

Blaise scratched his head. "Well, sir, though you and my father are good friends—I understand you went to Hogwarts together and were Housemates—Dad has never mentioned Lil being anything but slightly out of balance, which I already knew. If he had known Lil was a Death Eater, there would be many, many books in his library that would be under lock, key and spell. And there would be things he wouldn't speak of in front of her, like what he knows about what's going on with Dumbledore's group. Also, if he knew, he would never allow her to come to the Manor and then Mother would probably move to France with June and we'd be an 'estranged' family, since people like my parents don't get divorced."

"That's why you think I haven't told your parents?"

"That, and maybe Lilithe has some sort of spell on you to keep you from telling anyone that she's a Death Eater. The same one you probably have on her to keep her from telling everyone that you're a spy." The last part of what Blaise said was entirely a guess, but by the flicker that went over Snape's face assured him he was correct in his assumption.

"How did you know?" Snape asked. Blaise could see that, while this intrigued Snape, in no way had he forgotten his anger.

"Just a guess." Blaise shrugged.

"Any guess as to what spell?"

Blaise frowned. "We haven't done analyzing spells yet, but I have a knack for it, I think." After a few moments, he said, "I can't make it out completely, but I'll take a shot in the dark and say a Secrecy Charm."

"Bravo, Zabini," Snape said. He leaned back in his chair and glared at Blaise again. "Now get out."

Blaise prepared himself for the certain pain that would definitely follow his next statement. "No, sir."

"What did you say?" Snape asked, his voice once again low and dangerous.

Blaise felt three drops of sweat make their way down his face and fall off his chin before answering, "I said, no, sir. I came here to find out about my sister and I don't intend to leave until you tell me."

"You don't?" Snape gave him a dangerous look, as he hissed his question.

"No sir." Blaise gulped.

"Then you will rot here, Zabini. I don't intend to tell anyone anything about how I met your sister. And if you say anything about this discussion—or the others we've had—I'll personally see to it that you are not only stripped of your Head Boy status but also that you are punished in the old ways… Poor Mr. Filch has been so patient with the students, but I daresay he would love a chance to break out his chains before they rust completely away." He stood up and leaned close to Blaise's face. "Now. _Get out_."

Blaise nodded and turned around sharply and left. Once the door was closed behind him, he leaned up against it and started panting, sinking to the floor and wiping the sweat off of his face with his tie.

"Blaise, are you all right?" Hermione asked, rushing up to him and feeling his forehead.

"The memory..." he gasped. "Is very...powerful. Took...all my...strength...to stay upright and conscious." He crawled along to sit up against the cool stone wall. "Very tired. Please...levitate me...to my room." His last few words came in an out rush along with a large gust of air before his head lolled forward as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Hermione kneeled by Blaise's sleeping body looking around frantically for a moment before whipping out her wand and muttering, "_Wingardiom leviosa_," and taking Blaise back to his bedroom that way.

Several hours later, Blaise woke with a start and a huge gasp for air, sitting up in his bed, clutching the blanket draped over him. Hermione, who had been sleeping in a chair a few feet away, opened her eyes sleepily, jumping up and rushed to Blaise's bedside, trying to get him to lie back down and be calm.

"Blaise, what's the matter?" Hermione asked, as she tried to push him back to a horizontal position.

"His memory..." Blaise said slowly, "it's so...powerful." He smiled a bit. "If it was food, it would be horseradish. Or Chinese mustard. But it does seem to explain Snape a bit more. Why he's such an awful bastard, for one thing."

"Really?" Hermione mused. "I thought that was just his personality type."

"Eh, he was a complete bastard anyway, but this..." He shuddered. "It's just, well, _strong_, is the only word for it, really."

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked softly.

Blaise took her hand and looked directly into her eyes. "I can't show you the entire thing right now, but I _can_ show you a few flashes. And remember: it's just a memory, it won't really hurt. At least, I don't think it will." He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked back at her and suddenly Hermione was overcome with images of black-robed people surrounding Muggles, beating and raping and murdering while all the while laughing viciously at the prone forms. She saw the Dark Mark being burned onto her thin, sallow arm and heard the sound of burning. Then she saw Voldemort's sign being cast into the sky over a burning house with the smell of charring flesh wafting into her nose. A moment later, Blaise let go of her hand and breathed out, closing his eyes.

"That was _terrible_," Hermione said, rubbing her left forearm free of the phantom memory-pain. Blaise looked at her, his eyes open once again, and nodded. Hermione stared into his eyes, now darkened to a deep blue hue, much darker than the normal ice-blue that she was used to. "Blaise, your _eyes_," she breathed. He nodded.

"They change color for a bit after I use my so-called 'power'," he said, rubbing his now-closed eyes. "I'll explain more later. For now, I need to sleep." He pulled the sheets up close under his chin.

"Good night Blaise," Hermione said, kissing him lightly.

"G'night," he responded sleepily as she walked out of his room.

The next morning Blaise woke with a yawn and stretched out, the tips of his toes touching the end of his bed. He smiled at the sunlight that drifted in and was happy until he remembered what he'd done the previous night—and what Hermione would surely want him to show her in complete form. He shuddered then, the memory flashing back through his mind, the images flitting in front of his eyes. He had dreamed about them, he was sure, and what he'd dreamed wasn't pleasant.

The memory had started out with Snape as a poor, wandering Potions instructor with a grudge against James Potter. He'd been walking down Knockturn Alley when his old Housemate Lucius Malfoy had approached him with an offer: how would he, Severus Snape, like to join forces with a man who knew how he'd been wronged and would help him avenge himself. He'd accepted readily, thinking it would be something that would lead to him humiliating and harming James Potter in front of his friends and family. How he'd been wrong. He'd been sucked into the belief that Mudbloods and Half-bloods and Muggles were inferior—like animals. Harmful animals that needed to be put down. Immediately. He'd enjoyed it, the torture of countless Muggles, Half-Bloods, and what Voldemort—and his mouth piece, Lucius Malfoy—called 'Muggle-lovers'. He had been there at the Prewetts, torturing and killing every soul within their house. He had stalked a young girl who was hiding in a cabinet beneath the sink and dragged her out by her broken leg before slowly choking her to death.

That had happened about a year after he had joined the now-styled 'Death Eaters', which was the name Lord Voldemort had selected for his first 'chosen' followers. About a month after that he had met a then-sixteen Lilithe Zabini, fresh from her accelerated program at Beauxbaton, eager for the power she thought she lacked. Eaten up by jealousy of her sister who was gifted as she was, but in a different way. She thought that her gift was the weakest of all of them and craved power so she could prove once and for all that she was the most powerful of them all. Voldemort jumped at the chance of having a telepath amongst his Death Eaters and she had been initiated with little requirements.

He had been at her initiation and watched as Voldemort had put the Mark onto her pure, creamy white forearm and as she had accepted it with closed eyes, seeming to relish the pain that came with the ritual and sometime during the rite he had felt completely drawn to her, as if an unbreakable cord was tying them together. Her eyes opened once during the ritual and when they did, she looked up, straight into his eyes and smiled so very slightly.

After the ritual, she had come over to him and introduced herself, which wasn't something Death Eaters normally did. Usually you knew whoever had brought you in and whoever you had brought in, but you did not approach and talk to another member. But this dark-haired beauty, so consumed with darkness, had dared risk Voldemort's displeasure and come to _him_, of all people. Much to his surprise, he'd been assigned as her Mentor, to teach her the ways of the Death Eaters, of Voldemort, and he'd learned more and more of both her inner and outer beauty. After a few months of getting to know one another, they became lovers, teaching one another instead of him just being the teacher.

But about two years before Harry Potter destroyed Lord Voldemort, something in him changed. It started during a "raid" at a Muggle orphanage. He was about to kill a eight-year-old girl when he looked into her eyes, really _looked_ into the little girl's eyes, and saw the inquisitive, unknowing and, most of all, _innocent_ stare of the girl meet his. She looked _human_. So, he had been lied to, then. Muggles weren't animals that had to be put down. He hid the girl, unable to kill her, and reported all the children were dead. Lilithe, however, knew he was lying and was about to report him to Voldemort when he cast the Secrecy Charm, preventing her from telling anyone about it.

The day after that he went back to the orphanage and took the girl away, traveling to Hogwarts, a place he had sworn never to return to, and to speak with the only person he thought could help: Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore had helped him hide the girl, away from where the Death Eaters would ever find her—in exchange for something he wanted. A spy in the ranks of the Death Eaters. At that point in time, Snape had been in the Inner Circle, a trusted friend of Lucius Malfoy and a trusted servant of Voldemort's. He had accepted the deal, realizing that helping Dumbledore was the "right" thing to do.

When they had learned of Voldemort's demise, Lilithe had come to him from her new lover's—who was Avery, the cruel bastard—home to speak with him. She told him she knew he was a spy and that she would tell Lucius, provoking him to cast another Secrecy Charm on her. She then cast one on him, knowing he was a friend of her father's and would tell him she was a Death Eater.

After that, when he would watch her actions from afar, he privately thought that the jealousy that she had had when she first joined had deepened after the birth of her more powerfully telepathic younger brother, and then had quadrupled when her youngest sister was born with empathic abilities. But she had an emotional tie to her youngest sister so all of her hate and jealousy and feelings of inferiority focused on her one-year-old brother. It didn't help that Lilithe's father was obviously doting on Blaise and Zel while ignoring her and her June more than he should.

The incident of Claire Greengrass's death had happened about five and a half years after Voldemort's downfall. Lucius Malfoy, who at that time was still convinced that the Dark Lord would be returning, demanded that Death Eaters have 'loyalty' tests periodically. They would be assigned a target to kill, and if they did not succeed, they were tortured. He and Lilithe had been assigned Claire and he had to get drunk before he could go after her, torturing her as he had. That he had actually killed her, he couldn't believe it still. He and Lilithe had been drunk enough that they had forgotten their falling-out and had returned to his house and worked off their high on each other until they fell asleep from exhaustion. The morning after they had stared at each other in disgust before Lilithe Apparated away, back to Avery.

Shortly after that she moved to Italy and became a professor at the _Isola_.

But what had haunted Snape for years and years was that Claire Greengrass, the girl he had tortured and laughed at before he had killed her and left her in front of her parent's house, had been the little girl he had rescued from the orphanage so many years before. Dumbledore had told him that when he had reported back, hungover from the night before, trying to remember what he'd done. As Albus asked him if he had known about it, he had remembered everything – the look in the girl's eyes as she died, staring up at him like that, would remain imprinted on his mind forever, seared into his brain, not letting him go another day without remembering the horribleness of it.

And, as Blaise reflected on this memory, lying in his bed and rubbing it from his eyes, he decided it was better not to show it to Hermione.

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**A/N:** How'd you like it? Review, please! For future updating schedules and hints at updates, see my profile.


	24. The Calm Before The Storm

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** The long-awaited twenty-fourth chapter comes. This chapter's got a lot of good stuff in it and I enjoyed it a lot.

Huge, huge thanks to my beta, James, for being with me for this long and putting up with my erraticism and quirks. Without him, this story would be a whole lot worse.

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**Twenty Four**

After all this reflection, Blaise finally climbed out of bed, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he got ready to take his shower, not only to get rid of the sleepy feeling that lingered, but to try and get Snape's memories to leave his mind's eye. Succeeding, he got out of bed, tossing his towel over his robe-clad shoulder.

An attack on the school was immanent, he felt, remembering all he'd heard in the Slytherin common room from a few nights before – Death Eater's children bragging about their parent's closeness with the Dark Lord and how he planned to storm the castle soon. All this mulled through his mind as he dressed in his uniform, trying to think about his stance.

_Octavian lounged back in his chair, taking a glass from a third-year, looking smug. Blaise could tell, even though he was on the other side of the common room. _

"_To the Dark Lord," Octavian said, raising his glass. Everyone followed suit, repeating his words in differing tones, ranging from loud and proud to barely-heard murmurs. Blaise noted Theodore's was like his, low and uncommitted. Draco's admission, however, was loud and lazily prideful as he acknowledged the other boy with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression. _

_Octavian then launched into a speech that Blaise wasn't interested in until the end, where he said, "The attack on the castle can only be soon. Then we will triumph against the so-called 'Light' side, succeeding in the first step of our goal to purify magic and blood at the same time. Death to all Muggles and Muggleborns!" Other known children of Death Eater's applauded him, as they all launched into their own detailed analysis of how close they were in Lord Voldemort's ring of trust._

Blaise himself wasn't particularly interested in blood, or the ramifications of not having it be "pure" enough. But then again, that would mean Hermione would fall under Lord Voldemort's reign of terror— she would be one of many deaths that would elevate his previous death count from his first evil conquest to purify the world of Muggles and Muggleborns. He remembered talking with his father one time about the offensive spells that fell under Defense Against the Dark Arts and hearing his father bitterly say he would have introduced him to Gideon Prewett—had he not been killed by Death Eaters years before, hunted down like an animal along with his brother Fabian.

This had to make Blaise wonder about his father's alliances—where did his father's loyalties lie? Years of friendship with Snape mattered little; they knew each other as student and teacher first, Zachary having been Snape's private Potions tutor during his summers off from Hogwarts, though he had barely been out of school himself. But Blaise remembered having been taught as a child that just because some people did not have the ability to perform magic, that did not make them any less of a person. They had feelings, thoughts and lives, just as he had.

He fiddled with his tie as he continued the philosophical debate within himself. Finally, he settled on writing to his father that afternoon, since it was a half day of classes. He slung his bag over his shoulder and left his room, waving to Hermione as she rushed from the bathroom to her room, hair wrapped up in a towel-turban.

"Overslept?" he called teasingly with a wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh shut up, Zabini," she said crossly as she closed the door behind her. "Go on down without me; I'll be a while!"

He did so, humming to himself and tracing patterns on the stone walls as he walked towards the Great Hall, once again deep in thought. Just before he entered, a hand shot out from the shadows and encased his upper arm in a steel grip, pulling him into a corner. Professor Snape looked down his long and crooked nose from behind a curtain of greasy hair and glared down at Blaise.

"You _know_ something, Zabini," Snape hissed. Blaise gulped.

"Professor, I don't know what you mean," Blaise said, trying to edge away from his Head of House.

"Oh, don't give me that," snapped Snape. "I'm not an idiot, boy. I know when my mind is being read; I should, having lived with your sister for long enough." He looked for a second as if he wished he hadn't said that, but it disappeared in a flash and the glare was back. "What did you see?"

"I swear I didn't see anything!" Blaise protested, trying harder to wriggle his arm away from the vice-like grip Snape had him in.

"_What did you see, boy_?" Snape hissed, his voice lower than normal.

Blaise panicked for a moment, and then inspiration struck him. "The answers to next weeks' test," he said, trying to sound as if he hated to say that. "That's all, I _swear_."

Snape eyed him for a moment; Blaise felt him trying to perform Legilimency on him, and he hastily threw up one of his prepared mental barriers he'd designed to feel as if what they were looking for wasn't there. It must have worked on Snape since the odd feeling—which felt like someone pouring an uncooked egg into your head—receded. Snape nodded slowly, his glare changing from an angry one to the expression he normally wore. "Fine. For now," he added. "Go about your business, now. And if I catch you doing anything like that to me again, I won't be as lenient." He let go of Blaise's arm after a final squeeze and pushed him towards the doors to the Great Hall.

Blaise rubbed his arm moodily as he sat down in his regular seat and started serving himself breakfast. A few moments later, the doom-laden feeling he had picked up from Snape evaporated and he joined a discussion between Daphne and Theodore about the possibility of another use for powdered dragon's blood.

That afternoon, Hermione was going to spend time with Potter and Weasley; Blaise encouraged it, since he had plenty to think about. He went into his room and started doing homework, which he rarely did right away after classes ended. He asked the portraits of the Founders for advice a few times, which was not the wisest thing to have done as it got them into arguments about each other's advice. In the end, he cast a Silencing Charm and looked through his books for information.

When his homework was finished, he cleared his desk and put the papers on a table on the other side of the room. He sat back at his desk, staring at a blank piece of parchment and chewing on a Sugar Quill as he thought about what he should write to his father about. Should he mention the memory? What would the effect be? Disastrous or worse? He sighed, knowing that he could never guess with his family. They were too unpredictable.

_Dear Dad,_ he wrote.

_School's been fine since we got back. Everyone has been buzzing about Hermione and me, though. It seems that no one expected the Gryffindor Head Girl, _Harry Potter's best friend, to start dating a Slytherin_. I met Potter and Ron Weasley on the train, as well as Ginny Weasley, his younger sister. They're all right, but I don't think we'd ever be particularly close. _

_I'm writing because I've been hearing rumors of a Death Eater attack on the Castle and I wanted to know if you've heard anything similar. I've also got something I have to tell you, Dad. It's about Lilithe. I can't tell you in a letter, but there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, the second to last. If you could get away from your research, it's important that you come as I've told you I can't tell you my news in a letter. _

_Hope this reaches you well. Give my love to Mum, Zel, Eduardo and June. _

_Your son, _

_Blaise_

He sealed the letter with the seal his father had given him with his owl, Oddsbreath, and got up to walk to the Owlery, feeling as if a weight—or at least part of it—had been lifted from his shoulders.

He decided to take the longest way back and walked by the library, bumping into Theodore Nott as the other boy was coming out with a few books. They fell, and Blaise helped Theo pick them all up and agreed to help him with the books back to the Slytherin common room.

"Theodore," Blaise said suddenly, "what do you think of the Death Eater's policies?" He was treading on thin ice; he knew Theodore's father was a Death Eater.

Theodore seemed to consider this question. "In general, or some specific aspect of them?" he asked as they turned a corner.

"I don't think they really have more than one," Blaise said. "Eradicate the world of all Muggles, Muggleborns and Muggle-lovers."

"Everyone thinks that," Theodore mused. "That's their main goal, of course. One that, in the eyes of many, could be considered admirable." He shot Blaise a quick look that Blaise recognized: Theodore thought him a Death Eater.

He breathed in deep and took a chance. "I'm not a Death Eater, Theodore," he said quietly. "I'm not likely to be one, either."

Theodore's shoulders relaxed. "Well, then. The goal to 'purify' the human race of all non-magical, Muggleborn and Muggle-lovers is one that I simply do not see the sense in."

"Explain," Blaise encouraged, interested. He couldn't remember Theodore talking this openly for a long time.

"The major point that I disagree with is the complete lack of respect for human life outside of Wizardkind. Life in all forms, whether Muggle, Muggleborn, half-blood or pureblood, adult or fetus is the most precious and tenuous thing that the human race was entrusted with. And, while the Death Eater goal would eliminate the non-magical people, it would also be detrimental to the rest of the human race," Theodore explained. "Over time, mankind—wizardkind—would become so inbred we would breed the talent for magic out of our genes and genetic structure would weaken with the inbred tendencies until all children born would either be not magical at all or not magical with severe birth defects, such as malformed spines, multiple features, too many or too few fingers or toes and an extra or one less appendage. The purpose of having people have m with different blood and different genes than you is to make sure the race does not become inbred and defective."

As Theodore went on with an explanation of genes and malformations, Blaise listened and absorbed Theodore's ideas and theories that he had clearly wanted to share with someone, but couldn't, for he had no one he trusted enough to do it with. When they reached the Slytherin common room, Blaise looked at Theodore with an appreciative expression on his face and handed him his books.

"Thanks, Theodore," he told him as Theodore entered the common room. "You're a veritable encyclopedia, aren't you?"

Theodore smiled a bit and told him, "I try," before the wall slid back into place.

Blaise grinned at Theodore's odd sense of humor and stuck his hands in his pockets, whistling as he finally went back to his chambers.

When he got back, he heard Hermione's voice, along with two other voices. She was talking about what Blaise had discovered and how he'd done it. He frowned deeply, hurt that she hadn't asked him first if she could tell people. He stepped into the living room and glared at her as she trailed off, a guilty look on her face.

"Oh. Blaise. Didn't know you'd be back so soon," she said, shrinking back a bit in her guilt.

All of a sudden, he realized he was intimidating her. He didn't want her to think he would hurt her, so he lessened his glare a bit and took a look at her two visitors. Sitting across from Hermione were Potter and Weasley. He should've known. He sighed and scratched his neck uneasily.

"So you're a mind-reader, Zabini?" Potter asked, standing up and moving slightly, as if to block Blaise's path to Hermione.

Blaise stiffened, annoyed that they would presume to think he would resort to such violence. He wasn't an animal and he had been raised never to hit a woman. He wasn't about to start now, unless it was his sister. "Potter, if you think you can dare me into reading your mind, you're bloody nuts. I don't do it willingly. In fact, if Hermione hasn't already told you, I've got a charm to _block out_ people's thoughts. Contrary to popular opinion, I _don't_ need to hear Weasley thinking on and on about having Quidditch glory days or _you_ about Ravenclaw's ex-Seeker, Cho whatever-her-name-is." He gave them both dark looks before moving over to stand in front of his door. "Considering that everyone here is either a teenager or a preteen, and that in between the ages of eleven and seventeen one is at the highest point of being hormonally charged that one will ever _be_, I don't need a thousand voices in my head with their own little romantic fantasies. Or just plain fantasies, as some people have had." He cocked an eyebrow at Weasley, whose ears turned scarlet.

"So, thank you, Hermione, for telling your friends—who I have no affection at all for—that I am a mind-reader. I'm sure that it will become a wonderful rumor that will have the gossips of Hogwarts busy for weeks on end and have me being greeted with nervous looks and even slight fear every place I go. Thank you, and good night." He opened the door and turned to go to bed as a hand touched his arm. He looked back over his shoulder to see Hermione staring up at him, an 'I'm-so-sorry' expression on her face.

"Blaise, I'm so sorry," she said, patting his arm. "I really thought they might understand what I had to tell them better if I told them your secret. They _swore_ not to tell anyone." At this she shot a glare over her shoulder. Both boys behind her nodded solemnly. "Really, I'm sorry. Please forgive me." He looked into her eyes. They were full up with apologies and regret. Finally he sighed.

"Yes, I forgive you, Hermione," Blaise replied, squeezing her hand gently. "Next time, though, please _ask_ before you tell people my deep, dark secrets."

"Oh, she already told Ginny what you wear to bed," Weasley said in a singsong voice, making Hermione gasp out, "_Ronald_!"

Blaise gave Hermione a humorous smile and said, "Is my sleepwear so entertaining, then?"

Potter snorted. "I heard the conversation. I believe it was followed up by something like 'A tall, dark strip of handsome' and lots of giggling."

"Though it could've been 'A find piece of manliness'," Ron put in, making Hermione's shocked expression shift into mortified.

"I do have to _live_ with him, you know," she said, face bright pink as she avoided looking at Blaise.

"We don't," Potter said with a wicked grin on his face. "And now I've got you back for making Ginny try to picture it. I'll thank you not to do that in the future."

"She not even your girlfriend!" Hermione protested, still pink.

Potter sobered. "And you know why," he responded pointedly.

"True." Blaise saw her give him a darting look as he was shaking, trying not to laugh. "What?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"'A fine piece of manliness'?" he asked, laughter breaking through as he leaned in the doorjamb, clutching his stomach.

"My mother says it," Hermione said staunchly. "And a cousin of mine. It wasn't something I thought up myself."

"Damn, I think it's funny," Blaise managed to get out between laughs. Hermione poked him. When he, Potter and Weasley had stopped laughing, he reached out and rubbed Hermione's shoulder, smiling at her. "I'm really going to be now, so good night." He kissed her lightly and turned to go in as Potter's voice sounded in his ears.

"So, Zabini, if your oldest sister is a mind reader and so is your second oldest sister, what's your younger sister?" Potter asked curiously. "Hermione said you thought she was 'gifted', too."

"Actually, she's an empath," Blaise said seriously.

Potter laughed and said, "No, seriously."

Blaise frowned at him. "I _am_ serious. My sister's an empath. She feels other people's emotions. Before she learned to control it she couldn't bear to touch anyone at all; it was too overpowering. Now, she has boyfriends and a whole gaggle of girlfriends who hang all over one another, speaking rapid-fire French all day long.

"I remember one summer my charm that keeps thoughts out was broken when she brought home a huge group of them. I had to spend the week away from all of them—which was hard, since a few of them decided I was _trés beau_, very handsome, and would make a perfect choice as their next conquest." He made a face. "I had to hide in the library and my pavilion for the whole summer—my room wasn't safe. They didn't know the meaning of 'Get out of my room, _now_!' And now," he said, giving them all tired warning looks, "if there aren't any more questions, I am going to bed." He gave them another look that said, quite clearly, that there should be no more questions. He was about to turn when Weasley said something.

"I have a question," Ron said, far too cheerfully.

Blaise groaned. "What?" he managed.

"How do you get your hair so soft and shiny?" Blaise glared at him and Weasley just laughed.

"Good _night_!" Blaise said, walking into his room and closing the door. Potter was about to say something when Hermione shushed him.

"Wait for it…" There was a clicking noise. "Ah, he's locked us out." She laughed. "Good night, Blaise!"

"Good night."

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**A/N:** Since you got this far, I assume you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for that! So please, please let me know what you think and review! It would mean so much to me and would encite me to post twenty five sooner.

And with that, I repeat: go and review, please!


	25. Hatred and Death

**Disclaimer:** I owneth not the Harry Potter. Alas, poor Harry, I wish to own him muchly.

**A/N:** Well, this is it! Chapter twenty-five, one of my personal favorites really. Many, many things will have changed after once you finish this chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to my beta James who went over this about three times before we were both happy with it. Thanks to Emily, who listened without knowing what it was about.

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**Twenty Five**

During lunch the next day, Blaise looked around for Oddsbreath as the owls flew in, bearing mail for their owners. He spotted the barn owl amongst the last of the birds and hastily reached up for her as she came swooping in to settle on his arm. He fed her some scraps of lunchmeat as he took the letter from her and she pecked his fingers playfully for a moment before taking off.

He saw that the writing was his father's handwriting and ripped the envelope open carefully, making sure not to tear the contents, and unfolded the letter, reading quickly.

_Dear Blaise,_

_I'm glad school's been good. It's only to be expected everyone would gossip about you and Hermione; I remember when I was a teenager and the "news to be heard" was that Arthur Weasley and Molly Prewett had avoided the groundskeeper once again. Clever boy, to be sure. Your mother and I always got caught. _

_I've heard the same rumors myself, though probably not from the same sources as yours. My sources (as you know) are a wee bit more reliable with their flow and content of information; housemates are more often just gossip mills—the juicier, the better, eh? I am curious about what you have to tell me that you can't repeat in a letter. But then, you are my son: paranoia runs rampant in this family, for some reason. And not for the worse, either, with the possibility of the Ministry searching everyone's mail. Face-to-face contact is best when sharing news that could be 'important'. _

_I can indeed tear myself from my latest project—Signor Montelli has hired me to discover why gnomes are so irritable and the historical reason for it. I wonder why his family allows him access to their vault anymore, with the ways he wastes their money (a coat woven entirely from the Veela hair, for instance), but I suppose because they have so much of it that it hardly matters. _

_I will see you tomorrow, one o'clock, at The Three Broomsticks. I will probably be sitting at the bar, but feel free to tear me away from Rosemerta to talk. _

_Say hello to Hermione and Severus for me. _

_Your father, _

_Zachary Zabini_

Blaise folded his letter and walked over to Hermione as the bell rang for the start of classes. "He's coming tomorrow," he said quickly, before walking off to his first class, feeling better about what was in his head—for the time being, that is.

Classes went by in a blur, except for Potions, which seemed to take an age to end. At the end of the class, he relayed his father's greetings to Professor Snape, who glowered at Blaise and told him to hurry up and get out. But Blaise had not expected anything less from his teacher and he hurried along to his next class, thoughts swirling through his head about how he should relate to his father the details that were so painful and yet satisfying to know, after years of doubt and disguised hatred and barely veiled animosity.

He was sitting on a couch, absently sucking on the end of a Sugar Quill when Hermione came into their chambers.

"Blaise. Blaise? _Blaise_!" Hermione said, finally waving a hand in front of his face to get his attention.

"What?" He shook his head, blinking. "Oh. Sorry, Hermione. Lost in thought, you see."

"I saw," she said, smiling at him and sitting on a chair opposite him. "So...you lost me this morning. Who's coming tomorrow?"

"I didn't tell you?" Blaise frowned. "I wrote to my dad yesterday, telling him I had to tell him something—about Lilithe, you see—and that I couldn't do it through a letter. So I got a letter back from him and he said he's coming tomorrow and we can talk then. I'm going to meet him at The Three Broomstick tomorrow to talk."

Hermione leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Have I ever told you that you have the most twisted family dynamics of anyone I know? Even more so than the Weasleys, and that's saying something."

"Ach, but you love me anyway," Blaise said, reaching out with his foot to nudge her leg.

Hermione laughed. "No, I'm just in this for the payload down the line." She opened one eye to look at him and grinned wickedly.

Blaise sighed theatrically. "That's too bad; I've already left all my money to my pet gerbil."

"You don't _have_ a pet gerbil!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I _could_ have a pet gerbil, though." He grinned. "Anything to keep you on your toes, my dear."

"And I love every minute of it," she said, sighing. Then she stood up, gathering up her things and came over to kiss Blaise on the top of his head. "G'night, Blaise, I'm going to bed; it's been a long day."

"G'night, Hermione," Blaise replied, his eyes still closed. He didn't know if he'd get any sleep that night, waiting for the dawn and itching to talk to his father, the one man who had always been certain of everything, his confidant and protector when all was lost. As Blaise stood up and went to his room to try and sleep, he knew everything would be all right once he talked to his father.

The next morning dawned to see Blaise up, dressed and ready, pacing from the one end of the living-room to the other. While he thought, he fiddled with his robes and muttered to himself until Hermione, still in her pajamas and with a bad case of bedhead, marched out of her room half-asleep and shoved a thick book in Blaise's hands, forcing him to sit down.

"Here," she said, sleep cracking in her voice. "Read _War and Peace_. Maybe then you'll stop being so noisy and let me sleep." Then she turned around and went back into her room. He heard her climb back under the covers and then there was silence from her room.

He didn't read _War and Peace_, but he did stop pacing, opting instead to read from on of the Potions text he had left on the coffee table. That kept him occupied until ten o'clock, when Hermione came back out of her room, looking much more cheerful than she had four hours before. He let her get showered and dressed before saying anything.

By the time she was finished, they had completely missed breakfast and they rushed down to the Great Hall to get some lunch before going off to Hogsmeade.

As they walked into Hogsmeade a quarter of an hour before the meeting with Blaise's father, Blaise turned to Hermione and said, "Hermione, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but...I'd rather talk to my father on my own. If you don't mind."

Hermione nodded. "That's all right, Blaise. I know that telling him about your sister may not be something that you want me around for. How about I meet you for a butterbeer later on? I was thinking about spending some time with Ron and Harry, too, since I didn't spend too much time with them last term." She laughed. "I think they may feel neglected."

"Have fun," he said, hugging her around the shoulders before he set out for The Three Broomsticks and she for Honeydukes.

Blaise entered the pub and looked around before spotting his father, who had been true to his word and was chatting animatedly with Madam Rosemerta by the bar, sipping from a glass of Firewhiskey. He walked over and tapped him on the shoulder.

Zachary turned and smiled at his son. "Blaise," he said warmly. "What'll you have before we get down to business?"

"A butterbeer, please, Rosie," Blaise said to the bar mistress, using the nickname he'd heard his father use over the years. He waited for his drink before motioning for his father to a more secluded table.

As they settled down his father said, "Now, Blaise, what's this all about? Something really important I hope, not some rabbit trail."

Blaise cleared his throat. "This may be hard for you to hear; when I first heard, I couldn't accept the truth until a month or two ago—but what I'm going to say to you is completely true and I have evidence. Dad." He cleared his throat again. "What I'm about to tell you... There's no easy what to say it, but-"

"Hermione's pregnant?" Zachary guessed, Firewhiskey apparently getting to his head. Blaise frowned.

"Better cast a Sobering Charm, Dad. This is _important._"

"Sorry, son." Zachary muttered an incantation and then nodded. "Go ahead."

"It's hard to even believe it, Dad, but Lilithe is...well, she's a Death Eater." Blaise watched his father carefully.

To everyone else in the pub, Zachary Zabini looked completely calm and put together. To his son, who knew him better than most, he was barely containing an enormous amount of rage. "A...Death Eater?" he asked quietly. But Blaise had no reason to lie; he rarely did so, anyway, since he felt it was unnecessary and would only hinder one's path to the end goal.

Blaise nodded and put his hand on his father's, sending to him some images of Lilithe in Death Eater garb that he had obtained from Snape. "It's true," he said, when he pulled away from his father, severing the mental link. "Lilithe's been a Death Eater for years...about sixteen or seventeen, according to the memories I absorbed by accident. She's participated in so many – well, the only word for it really is 'atrocities'. Mass Muggle killings and some wizard killings – she even helped with the murders of Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Dad." At this, Zachary shuddered; Blaise knew Gideon and Fabian had been friends of his father and longtime aids with his research before they were killed so many years before. To know that his daughter—his _daughter_—had been a part in the murder of two men who had been his friends could only have unnerved him on many levels, fueling his rage towards Death Eaters and their actions.

"That's not it, though, is it?" Zachary said, looking at his son. "Go on, Blaise. I can take it." He gave his son a grim smile. "I'm not that old, yet."

"Lilithe's been doing something, though I'm not sure what," Blaise went on. "Her trip to Hogwarts as a 'guest speaker' can't have been entirely for educational purposes. I think she might've been there to scope out the castle's weaknesses or something. I don't know what she's up to, but if the Dark Lord knows about anything that could get him in..." He trailed off weakly for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, not everything he wants to know could've been gotten through me, even if I knew anything. He's got followers among my Housemates – Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy—he's been after Potter's blood since his father was thrown in prison and God knows how Lucius got out—and a couple other of my yearmates, including Pansy Parkinson, but her mother's been a Death Eater for years, everyone knows that..." He went on, detailing to his father what he knew, including the possibility of Snape and Lilithe's spells on each other and all the other things he and Hermione had discovered.

With every word he knew his father was getting madder and madder at his firstborn. The straw that broke the camel's back had been Lilithe's involvement with the Prewett brothers' murder, however. Years of Lilithe's wrongdoing against "his" part of the family were already weighing against her in Zachary's mind.

He finished, trailing off and waiting for his father to speak. He did not have to wait long.

"Blaise, in light of what you have just told me, I have some things to let your sister know," Zachary said, his face dark with rage. "I'll see you soon. Goodbye son; have a good weekend." He Disapparated and Blaise panicked. What would his father do? Surely he wouldn't kill Lilithe. He didn't know... She was much more powerful than she let on. He ran past Hermione, who had just come over to talk to him, saying quickly, "No time! Be back later!" and running towards the fire, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and throwing it to the flames, saying, "Zabini Manor!" and jumping into the fireplace, eyes closed.

He arrived in the foyer and grabbed a passing house-elf. "Quick, where're my father and my mother?"

"In the garden," squeaked the scared creature. "Can Gelly get Master anything?"

"No," he called over his shoulder. "Thanks, though!" He ran through corridors, twisting and turning, trying to keep his wind, and drew his wand as he went into the garden. He walked to the middle of it, where the gazebo was and saw his father shouting at Lilithe, who was white-faced and angry, standing beside her mother who was slowly drawing back from her.

"Death Eater scum!" spat Zachary. "In my house! I fed you, clothed you! You're my daughter! _I_ did not raise you to be like this! _I_ never gave you these values!"

"You didn't raise me at all!" screeched Lilithe. "She did!" Her head flicked towards her mother. "She raised me right. Those people—if you can call them that—are less than us, father. _Below_ us. You call _me_ scum? Those people are the scum that feeds upon it. The lowest of the low. Parasites that deserve to be _exterminated_. I am only helping in that cause, only furthering the purification of the planet, ensuring the survival of the purest of the pure, and guaranteeing the endurance of Wizardkind!" Blaise looked into her eyes, though she didn't see him, half hidden by a lilac tree, and saw depths of madness that he had never seen before. "Why defend them? Let them defend themselves, if they can. Defend themselves from the power and majesty of the Dark Lord!" She laughed, and her father's expression turned from rage to a mixture of loathing and disgust.

"Parasites?" he asked, sneering at her. "Your mother taught you that Muggles are _parasites_? Let me tell you something about your 'pure' blood, girl. Your mother's family were _Muggleborns_ from France who came here to escape Grindelwald's reign of terror. Your mother is only _half-blood_, essentially. It's from me—_­me_, your so-called parasite-loving father—that you get your _pureblood_ label. If not for _me_ and my generations of 'pure' blood, you'd be nothing but half-blood—at best. Even now you're only three-quarters. So don't think you can bring her up in value because she's taught you all you know. Your mother has a short memory if she thinks because she married me her blood changed. I suppose she's woven a tangle of lies for you about me, hasn't she? That I hate and despise you, that I think Zel and Blaise are better? Until this moment, Lilithenial, I never thought that. But for you to believe so blindly in such a despicable cause—for you to _ally_ yourself with the so-called 'Dark Lord' is something I cannot forgive-"

Lilithe cut him off. "For the revelation that mother is only half-blood I will only Stun you instead of killing you," she said calmly. But Blaise looked into her eyes again and saw even more madness. She rounded on her mother, who was now cowering from her daughter, pressed up against the wall of the gazebo. "But you," she said to Frances in a low voice that almost sounded like Snape's most dangerous tone. "You, who deceived me, who led me to believe you were better than I thought... You, who caused me to defend you to my Lord, to give away some precious treasures to ensure your survival when I could have let you die in the end and profited more. You, I shall kill." She raised her wand. "Goodbye, Mother."

"No!" Zachary said, trying to stop Lilithe. She Stunned him and turned back to her mother, who was weeping.

"Lilithenial," Frances said, holding out her hand. "It's me. It's Mummy... Put your wand down, Lili. Put it down. Give it to me. No- No, Lilithe!"

"No, Mother," Lilithe said calmly, as if she was just asking for the salt at the dinner table. "No. I'm afraid that you must die." She raised her wand again.

"No!" Blaise croaked, but Lilithe didn't hear him. He didn't seem to be able to move. He looked down at his legs to see five house-elves holding him back. The one that was holding on the tightest was Lyttie. "No, Lyttie, leg go," he said hoarsely. "I have to save Mother."

"Lyttie is sorry to disobey Master, and she will punish herself later," Lyttie squeaked. "But Lyttie has seen this before, and Lyttie won't let Master go to his death. No, and neither will Dripy, Hort, Gelly or Telly." The Elves tightened their hold.

Blaise turned back to Lilithe, tears dripping down his face. He saw his mother on her knees, still begging for her life. Lilithe stared down at her mother, face dead calm.

Suddenly, her eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell with several deep breaths. Her eyes opened and she opened her mouth and spoke. "I knew eventually one of my parents would have to die, Mother. This is something I knew the Dark Lord would demand, but I never thought I would have to kill you. Now it matters little. Either way I will be the most powerful ally of my Lord. And either way...I will only have one parent. So why not destroy the one who is inferior? Father deserves to have a chance to hear the Dark Lord's point of view. You don't. You are little more than the dirt that my shoes tread on. And what's more, you deserve this. I will enjoy it." A twisted smile appeared on her face as she raised her wand and pointed it at her mother, who was trembling, eyes closed. "_Avada Kedavra_."

Blaise closed his eyes for a second, then they snapped open and he tried to scream, but nothing would come out. So he tried not to listen to his mother's dying scream as more tears rolled down his face and dripped onto the heads of his tiny protectors. When the reverberation from Lilithe's Disapparation sounded, and he was free. He ran to his mother's body and fell to his knees beside her, taking her limp hands. Many tiny little bodies pressed against his as he wept – the house-elves who had helped raise him were comforting him at his mother's death.

He didn't know how long he sat there, by his mother's body, but at some point someone woke his father up and he was joined in his mourning. They sat there until night came upon them and a small house-elf tapped Blaise's shoulder and said, "Masters have a visitor."

Blaise glanced at his weeping father, took his handkerchief from his pocket and said, "I'll go with you. Make sure any visitors come through me, all right?" The house-elf nodded and started up the pathway. Lyttie followed Blaise as he went into the house and walked towards the Receiving room. He entered the room to see Severus Snape lounging a couch.

"Zabini, may I ask why, after your father left this afternoon, you felt the need to follow him here? Without telling anyone where you were going, I might add?" Snape asked. "I had to be informed by Miss Granger—Granger, of all people—that one of my students was missing. Please, enlighten me."

Blaise glared at his Head of House, who glared back. "I told my father about Lilithe being a Death Eater," he said. "He got mad when I told him about Lilithe's involvement with the murders of the Prewett brothers." Snape hissed at him, as if he'd done something stupid. "It had to be done," Blaise told him stubbornly. "After I told him what I knew, he came back here to...talk...with Lilithe. She spouted all this nonsense about purification of the planet and he told her the only reason she herself was so damned 'pure' was because of him. That without his blood, she'd only be a half-blood. She told him that she was grateful for telling her that and so she was only going to Stun him instead of killing him. She turned to my mother-" He broke off, biting off a sob, and waited a few moments before continuing. "She turned to my mother and was about to kill her when Dad tried to stop her. She Stunned him and- and-" He couldn't hold it back and new tears fell from his eyes again. Lyttie attached herself to his leg again and hugged him harder than before. "I tried to go and stop her- I tried. But the House Elves- they- they stopped me, saying I'd only die if I went. So I stood there and I heard her kill my mother—_our_ mother. I couldn't stop her. I couldn't stop her." He sank onto a couch as Snape rose. Before Snape could open his mouth, the tiny House Elf looked up at him, glaring with every inch of her face.

"You is a bad man, coming here and upsetting Lyttie's family!" she said hotly, shaking her hand at Snape. "Grieving, they are. You is only upsetting them more, being mean and stupid to them. You is going away now, and not coming back! Go!" She raised her pointed finger at Snape, who didn't even manage a Body-Bind before the house-elf sent him back to wherever he had Apparated from.

The only two human occupants at Zabini Manor spent their night mourning over their loss in a gazebo, surrounded by twenty loyal house-elves who were draped over them in comfort.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Now please, please review because I'm dying to hear what you think of this chapter!


	26. Lilithe's Curse

**Disclaimer:** I owneth not the Potterdom.

**A/N:** It's been long enough for me to torture you all, so I shall be nice and everything and give you 26. :)

Thanks, as always, to my excellent beta James and also to all my friends & family who listen to me drone on why I do things in my fic. Love you guys!

Major thanks to everyone who reviewed 25--I loved hearing what you thought about the ending, and I was almost bursting with keeping such a huge secret for so long. Not as big as JKR keeps, but still big on my level.

Read on!

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**Twenty Six **

**Lilithe's Curse**

Sunday morning came to find the two Zabini males stretching the cricks out of their bodies as Zachary gathered up his wife's body and he and his son walked back to the house with a trail of House Elves behind them. They placed Frances on her bed and Blaise left his father alone for a little while to walk around the house with Teyla, the Head House-Elf, going over what would be needed to run the house until he could come back for Easter break.

As they neared the front door, they heard someone pounding on it; Blaise took his wand out and told Teyla to go prepare an early lunch in case it was someone they wanted to see. He opened the door slowly to see Snape, Hermione and the Headmaster, along with his father's youngest brother, Roan, standing on the stone steps and knocking on the large doors. Blaise swung the doors wide open and nodded to them all.

"What're you doing here?" he asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak when Roan interrupted. "Blaise, where's Zach? With Frances?"

Blaise nodded. "In her room," he said softly. "You know where it is, right?"

"I think I know where it is," Roan said, patting his nephew on the shoulder. "If not, I'll just ask a House-Elf."

"Most of them are-" Blaise gulped. "-are digging. For a grave. But there should be a few around somewhere." Roan nodded and walked off to comfort his brother.

Blaise turned to the others on the steps. "I know my uncle has a reason to be here," he said, slightly numb. "But the rest of you... You didn't have to come."

Once again Hermione opened her mouth to say something and was interrupted. This time it was Dumbledore. "We've come to offer our condolences, Mr. Zabini," the Headmaster said gravely. "Miss Granger has, of course, come to comfort you since she has said she does not think that family is something you are in particular need of right now. I must say that I concur. Professor Snape has come to see your father, as you probably have guessed, and to help with the arrangements." He moved forward and propelled Blaise into the House with Snape and Hermione following him. "I have come because I wish to know why your sister would do such a thing. Besides the obvious, of course."

Blaise moved from under the old man's touch. "Thank you for your concern, Headmaster," he said. "And yours, Professor," he nodded at Snape, who acknowledged it coolly, "but I need no such comfort and neither do I seek to find why my sister murdered my mother. She's mad, through and through. Mad with power and mad with a cause. She's become a fanatic and anything that disputes her cause..." He laughed bitterly. "Does not deserve to live. So she killed my mother for being a half-blood. Or less, I suppose, with two Muggleborn parents. Such is the mind-reader's curse, Headmaster."

"Mind-reader's curse, Mr. Zabini?" Dumbledore said quietly, looking at the young man whose eyes were red and swollen from crying and whose hands were trembling with grief.

"I studied at a school in Italy when I was young," Blaise said, beginning to walk in the direction of the gardens, making the small group of people follow him to hear his story. "My father was in and out of their library so often that I was enrolled in their grammar school program for a time. Mostly we read in their library. The library was enormous—I can't say really how big. Some say that the content of magic in the building causes it to go on forever, but I'm not sure if that's true—the island it's on is actually quite large. But I digress. I was set to read books on mind-reading, for they knew the power I had. That particular school values power like that, power that only few have. They glorify it and raise you above everyone else until you've become so inflated in your self-opinion that when you fall you bring everyone else with you.

"It was the summer after I turned eight that I read of the mind-reader's curse. As you know with great power—any sort of power—comes great responsibility. And the misuse of such power...can be catastrophic. When mind-readers misuse their power, a power given them to help mankind—or Wizardkind—and they use it instead to destroy a part of it...well, the effects aren't good. They go mad. It's hard to see it, in one as strong as my sister, but she is insane. More so that any mind-reader has ever before become."

He stopped suddenly and turned to look at Hermione. "I told you that I hear voices all the time if I don't wear my necklace?" She nodded. "It's because I can't turn the switch inside of me off. I can't make myself stop. So because I hear people's thoughts all the time I gather power from it. I become more powerful the more I hear."

"There is power in thoughts," Snape murmured.

Blaise nodded at his Head of House. "Exactly. But no matter how much more powerful I would become, it's not worth the price I would have to pay to attain it."

"And what price would that be?" Dumbledore asked as Blaise started to walk again.

Blaise looked over his shoulder and gave Dumbledore a brittle smile. "Hearing a thousand voices, day in and day out? Every day for nine months, seven years in a row? With only three months' break in between? There's only one thing that would even begin to pay the price for the sort of power that I would harvest: my sanity. And as much as the Slytherin in me desires power to rule over everyone, I cannot—will not—pay that price. I prefer to remain sane and in possession of my already abnormal strength for a seventeen-year-old than gather power that would only occur in someone who had lived naturally for eight centuries could possibly have."

"But Lilithenial," Blaise said, laughing a bit at Snape's surprised expression. "Yes, that's her given name, didn't she say? All of my sisters have flower-like names, though Juniper is the only one actually named after one. But Lilithenial does not care what kind of price she has to pay. She can turn off her abilities but she rarely chooses to do so, and instead gathers her power from those around her as she grows old and, sadly for us, more knowledgeable." He arrived in front of the doors to the gardens. "Lilithe cares not how she gets it. Her time at the Isola has only fueled her power sources. She's been there now for almost ten years, being their resident mind-reader instructor." As he opened the doors to the gardens he turned to Dumbledore. "Do you know how many people attend the Isola?"

Dumbledore frowned. "They never release their exact number," he said. "But I know it to be at least two and a half times what Hogwarts has." A look of horror slowly spread across his, Snape's and Hermione's faces as the thought of how much power Lilithe could have gotten entered their minds.

Blaise nodded slowly. "Then you know why I'm so worried. Lilithe is a madwoman, infatuated with the Dark Lord's cause and has far more power than anyone should ever have at one time. Should ever have in a _lifetime_, even. And she will probably want to kill me and Professor Snape, as well." He laughed bitterly. "Oh, the life of a dead man walking. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a grave to see to. Teyla will attend to you and I will see each of you later. Good morning." He turned and walked out into the gardens. They watched him until he walked out of sight and then they followed the Head House Elf to wherever she had been directed to take them.

That afternoon, Blaise reappeared to talk to his guests. His hair was wet, as if he'd taken a shower, and there was mud on his shoes. His face was white, which made his blue eyes—which had changed again and were now cerulean blue—stand out from under his dark eyebrows. He'd told them that dinner was ready and they followed him to the dining room he and Hermione had eaten at during the Christmas holidays. He sat at the head of the table and didn't answer any of their questions until the first course was served.

"So," Blaise said, taking a bite of his salad, "what was it you wanted to ask me?" He nodded towards Snape.

"What, exactly, has your sister been hiding from us for all these years?" Snape asked coolly, lifting a cherry tomato to his mouth in a stately manner.

"Ask a hard one next time," Blaise replied sarcastically. He settled more comfortably into his chair. "Well, Lilithe has hidden a lot of things I don't know of, I'm certain. I've had a few glances into her mind the past few months and it's..." He trailed off, searching for a description. "It's like a maze. Traps and fake doors are everywhere. Take a wrong step and she knows you're there and can trap you inside her mind forever. She's done it before, I'm certain. But what I have found out is that she's got an enormous amount of power hidden away somewhere. Where, I'm not certain. It could be in any of several different places or it could be in all of a few different places.

"She thinks it's hidden because she's done something she thinks no one would ever think she's done. She's tried to put the power she couldn't hold into something—or some_ people_—no one would ever expect her to store power in."

Snape frowned. "Could it be possible she's stored it in her children?" he asked.

Blaise smiled, amazed that he knew something that his Head of House did not. "That's a good guess, but no. If you are like Lilithe and me, there are restrictions on who you can store power in, if you choose to store it in a person. With an object, it's different; if the object melts, you've put too much power in."

"What are the restrictions on storing it in a person?" Hermione asked, leaning forward in her seat.

Blaise held up a finger. "One, you _cannot_ store it in anyone who does not have the same power as you. If you did, you would kill the person you stored it in since the power would be at odds with the other, unfamiliar, power in the person and attack it. If it proves more powerful—which it almost always does—the person dies. She loves her children, in a twisted way, I believe. Neither of her children are mind-readers. I believe Lilithe saw to that when she was pregnant—she took magical precautions so that her children did not share the same power."

"She didn't want them to suffer the same hardships she had?" Dumbledore mused. "A good mother, then."

Blaise laughed bitterly again. "No," he said. "She doesn't want rivals. She's already got me and Zel – she doesn't want to have to be wary of her own children."

"So she meddled with her children's genes out of personal comfort!" Hermione exclaimed, a hand rising to her mouth. "That- That's horrible!"

Blaise nodded. "Yes, it is. And so is trying to drown your brother when he is born because you know he's more powerful than you and you know it. So is sabotaging everything he and your younger sister love to do simply because they share the same power as you do. So is ruining everything they hold dear just to see the looks on their faces and then when you cry after you're forced to apologize, it's not because you're sorry, it's because you're so happy it drives you to tears." He speared a leaf of lettuce with excessive force and they heard the plate crack. "Excuse me," he said, standing up from the table. "Please entertain yourselves and enjoy dinner. I'll join you this evening." He rushed out of the room and they heard his yells as he continued down the hallway.

"He hates her, doesn't he?" Snape said, looking at Hermione. Dumbledore looked at her as well.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, he really does," she said simply. "But he loves her too, because she's his sister. It's a never-ending teeter-totter; eventually one is going to outweigh the other and send it into oblivion. I think if the rumors are true, if the castle is attacked and Lilithe's there..." She looked at Snape. "I think you'll have to race Blaise to kill her before he does."

Blaise rejoined them in the family sitting room around seven o'clock that evening. For three hours they had been smelling smoke, until Hermione had led them to the gardens and they saw a huge bonfire of things, mostly clothing and personal knickknacks, on an empty piece of lawn. Blaise was standing beside it, five House-Elves grouped around him, with the first peaceful expression on his face that Hermione had seen all year.

When he entered the sitting room later, he immediately strode over to the fireplace and poured himself a glass of whatever was in the crystal decanter on the mantel. He took a drink of it before turning to his guests.

"So, Mr. Zabini," Dumbledore began, "when do you plan on rejoining us at Hogwarts?"

Blaise looked at him in surprise. "I will be leaving with you tomorrow morning, after breakfast," he said. "I never intended to stay longer; I know I'm needed at school." He flicked a glance at Hermione.

"Then who will be taking care of your father?" Snape asked, breaking the silence a few moments later.

"You act as if my father has never seen death before," Blaise said quietly, staring at Snape. "Surely you remember thirteen years ago and...the terrible accident..."

"Who died?" Hermione asked softly, getting up to walk over to Blaise and place her hand and his upper arm gently.

"My father's two sisters, his first youngest brother and my uncle's wife," Blaise said shortly. "And all of their children, eight of my cousins. They were very anti-Death Eaters and were very vocal about their beliefs that there were still some...not caught. The mood of the wizarding world was still shadowed by the Dark Lord's reign. People were still wary of others. My aunts and uncle were at their beach cottage and-" His eyes closed in pain as he broke off.

"They were at the family's beach cottage with their families and Death Eaters came... The Death Eaters were smart enough to know to take out my uncle first—he was an Auror, you see. A gifted wizard, my dad always said. On the same level as Mad-Eye Moody, I've heard. My aunts' husbands had died in the War. Aunt Iris had three children, two boys and a girl. Aunt Faye had three, also, but she had two girls and a boy. Uncle Dolan and Aunt Lynn had two little girls, and she was pregnant with their third.

"The Death Eaters came during the night and killed my uncle first, then his wife, and their two children. They branched out through the house and killed everyone else, not bothering to make it quick, either. They wanted my family to suffer. And we have suffered. We have." He drained his cup of its contents and filled it up again. "Anyway, professor, you've seen my father is quite capable of handling his grief. He proved so then, he'll prove so now. He'll do better with Roan and Hinder to take care of him, not to mention the other nineteen Elves we've got. They all love us and Teyla was dad's nanny when he was a baby so it's not likely he'll go without food." He drained his cup again and bowed to his guests. "So I'll say goodnight and I'll see you in the morning."

Halfway down the hall, Blaise heard Hermione call him. "Yes?" he said, turning around.

"Blaise, you were four when that happened; when your uncle and aunts died," Hermione said. He nodded. "So how do you know that story?"

Blaise's face darkened and he turned his head to stare at the wall so that half his face was obscured in shadow. "Every year on the anniversary of their deaths my father gets drunk and tells the story," he said.

"I thought you said he was good at handling his grief," Hermione said quietly.

Blaise looked back at her as he started to walk away. "He is. If he wasn't, he'd be drunk all the rest of the year, too."

"Oh." Hermione watched him walk away. "Every year?" she called after him.

There was sadness in Blaise's voice as he answered, "Every year. Every damn year."

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**A/N:** This is a very plot-heavy and interesting chapter. I adored it and I wrote it about a month ago on vacation when I was doing about a chapter a day and managing the 2800+ quota I set for myself mostly.

I'm glad you made it this far! So love it or hate it, I can't wait to see what you think so please review!


	27. The Funeral

**Disclaimer:** I-ay O-day Ot-nay Arry-hay Otter-pay.

**A/N:**Thanks so much to all my readers & reviewers! This chapter is much shorter than the others, I know, sorry! But there wasn't much to do and I needed to move on. Hopefully you'll enjoy it though!

Huge, major thanks to my beta, James, for sticking through this. He is the best beta I've ever had and even more so since he's stuck with me for over a year, helping me along with this fic.

As of 11/17/05 Roommates is complete and my beta and I are in the process of editing!

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**Twenty Seven**

**The Funeral**

Monday dawned and Blaise woke up to a sunny and clear morning, depicting the emotions that he did not feel. As he dressed, he glared at the sky and wished for thunder clouds to cover it, to boom out the anger he could not unleash on people that had not earned it. His wish, however, went unheard and he stomped down to the dining room to find that Dumbledore, Snape and Hermione were seated already, quietly eating their breakfast.

"Good morning," Blaise said, nodding to everyone. They responded in kind, dipping their heads.

"You are still accompanying us back to Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked. Blaise nodded.

"I really had no intention of staying longer, or at all, when I came. But as the...events...unfurled, it became clear I was needed for the weekend. I intend to come back over Easter, but until then I believe everyone will be all right here, especially with Roan to watch over things."

"Your uncle is capable, then?" Snape asked. Blaise looked sharply at the Potions Master.

"You know only the traveling, immature side of Roan," he replied, his voice hard. "A few years ago, something happened to him, I know not what, but he's changed. He's more mature now, more _capable_. So yes, I trust him to take care of my father." He picked up his hard-boiled egg and broke the shell, eating it by hand and occasionally putting bits of salt and pepper on it.

There was silence for a long time before Blaise spoke again, hesitating for a moment. "There's- There's a memorial service for mum before we go. You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I think it would mean a lot to dad." He looked at Hermione. "It would mean a lot to me, too."

"Of course, Mr. Zabini," Dumbledore said gravely. Snape nodded, agreeing and equally as grave.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, of course," she told him, smiling sadly at him.

"Thank you," Blaise said, more to Hermione than Dumbledore or Snape. They went back to eating their meal in silence.

After breakfast they followed Blaise out to the gardens and through some confusing twists and turns in the shrub-lined path. They got glimpses of exotic patches of flowers. Hermione exclaimed once, sure that she had seen a wall covered in Venomous Tentacula. Blaise paused only once—to pluck a blood red rose from its bush—and then he continued on without speaking a word. Finally they reached a small gated section of grass with headstones littering it.

"The Zabini family graveyard," Blaise whispered. There was a small area to their right that had a fresh grave dug, with a casket sitting next to it. Surrounding the casket were House-Elves, with Roan and Zachary Zabini standing behind them. On the opposite side was a cleared section of grass. Blaise walked over to his father and tapped his shoulder and Zachary turned around to hug his son. "Dad, what's the grass over there for?"

His father frowned for a moment, as if not understanding Blaise's question, but then his face cleared. "Zel and Eduardo are Portkeying in," he said. "Roan wrote them yesterday. They should be here in a moment or two. Ah. Here they are."

Zelphinia and her husband appeared opposite them on the previously empty stretch of grass. Zel immediately rushed over to her father and brother and hugged them. "Oh, Blaise. Oh, Dad!" She gulped and sobbed a bit as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I know Mum wasn't good to us, Blaise, but I never- I never wanted her to die!" She burst into heavier sobs and Eduardo came over to comfort her as someone else arrived by Portkey.

June stumbled a bit as she let go of the tin can used for her Portkey; Luc, her boyfriend, caught her. She stared at her relatives and took a hesitating step towards them before breaking into a run to fall into her fathers' arms, her body shaking with emotion as she spoke. "Daddy, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry! I never meant to be so awful. I'm so sorry! Please- Please forgive me. Please, _please_ forgive me." Zachary patted his daughter's head as she sobbed into his green dress robes. Once she calmed, she lifted her head and asked, "How did it happen? And where's Lilithe?" Zachary looked towards Blaise.

Blaise sighed and took his younger sister from his father and helped her over to a bench. Luc hovered, not knowing if he could be helpful. Blaise motioned the Frenchman to come to sit with June as he started to explain. He decided to start out bluntly. "Lilithe killed Mum," he said.

"No!" June breathed, shocked. "Lilithe- She would never, never do that!"

"Lilithe's a Death Eater," he continued mercilessly, reaching out for his sister. "She killed Mum for lying to her about being pureblood. Lilithe's a murdering, conniving bitch, who would-"

June flinched from his touch. "So- So much anger," she whispered, her amber eyes filling up with tears. "Why do you hate, Blaise? It's such a powerful thing. Eventually it will eat you away, you know that, don't you? And I know we're not close, but after loosing Mum, I can't loose anyone else. I can't. Don't let it eat you away, Blaise. Don't become your hate."

Blaise nodded. "I won't," he promised. "But I can't let Lilithe become something that will destroy us all. I can't let her aid someone who would destroy millions of people just because they can't perform magic; of people who have never done anything to him. I'm going to fight them, with everything I've got."

"But Blaise," June said, turning away, "what have you got?"

Blaise watched her turn to Luc and curl into his arms and he pressed his lips into a thin line. "More than you realize," he whispered. "More than anyone realizes."

He walked back to the large group with his hands shoved in his pockets and received condolences from his other relatives, most of which were on his mother's side, Roan being the only uncle he had left from his father's side. Eventually he made his way over to stand with Hermione, away from everyone else. After about twenty minutes, the service was conducted and Zachary stood up to say the eulogy.

Zachary cleared his throat, looking around. "My wife and I were not close," he began. "At least, not for many years. But she has done her share of great works in this world, including making tombs of all natures safer for Muggle archaeologists to go into, whether she knew that or not. She never intentionally injured anyone, neither physically nor through magic. She loved her children.

"Frances grew up in a poor home in London, but she grew proud with the years. Her death is something I shall mourn for the rest of my life. I loved my wife, no matter how much came between us. I wish I had gotten to know her more, stayed close to her, even through the hard times, but no amount of wishing will bring her back now. I can only say now that I do not blame myself for her death, however much I blame myself for other things. The blame for her death can only rest in the hands of our oldest daughter, Lilithenial, who has unveiled herself as a Death Eater and is now cast out of our house." His steely gaze raked the whispering mourners.

"I have said for years that I will not tolerate Death Eaters activities, though I never said it publicly. And now that I discovered my daughter has pledged herself to them, I formally—and publicly—disown her from this family, never to be taken in again. May her memory be stricken from these halls and her presence from these buildings. And for the murdering of my wife, I bestow upon Lilithe this final parting gift. May she be unsuccessful in whatever task she embarks upon. May her death be as inglorious and demeaning as her mother's and may her power come back to be her doom." He sat back down and the mourners stared at him in shock and awe.

Blaise smiled at his father, who smiled back at him vaguely, a glint in his eye shining in a dangerous way.

Blaise moved to stand up and coughed to get everyone's attention. "I won't take up much of your time," he told them, soberly ."I didn't know my mother very well; but even after years of her seemingly hating and despising me, upon her death I found that I still love her. So rest in peace, Mum." As the casket was lowered into the grave, Blaise threw the rose onto it and turned away, wiping the tear that fell from his eye.

By ten o'clock, Blaise, Hermione, Snape and Dumbledore had Apparated to King's Cross to catch the Express back to Hogwarts. Hermione had asked why they weren't Flooing or Apparating back, and Dumbledore told them that the Floo Networks were being watched by Death Eaters. Once they had boarded the Express, Dumbledore and Snape went to talk with the engineer, leaving Blaise and Hermione in a compartment alone together.

Blaise was staring out the window blankly. Hermione licked her lips nervously before asking him, "Blaise, when we were talking about your sister's power, you mentioned something about her having a vast amount of power stored away somewhere, or in someone. You said you knew what—or who—she'd put it into." Blaise nodded. Hermione pushed onward. "Blaise, where is this power?"

Blaise looked at her as if he didn't believe what he was hearing. Tapping his chest with one finger, he said, "Me, Hermione. Her power is in me."

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**A/N:** Again, thanks to all my readers & reviewers for staying along for the ride; I love you all!

Please, please go review!


	28. Invasion

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Sorry for the long delay; I hope you don't mind! Here's chapter twenty eight.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and huge thanks to my beta, James, for being the best beta ever.

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**Twenty Eight **

**Invasion**

The rest of the train ride passed in silence between Blaise and Hermione. Occasionally, Hermione would try to draw him into conversation, but he would answer and then drop back into silence, staring out the window, his brow furrowed as he thought.

Professor Dumbledore and Snape came to get them when they pulled into Hogsmeade station and they followed them to the carriages without argument. Once back at the school they went directly to classes, with their slips of paper from the Headmaster explaining their absence.

That evening Blaise returned to his and Hermione's chambers, sat down heavily in a chair, closed his eyes and rubbed his head. Five minutes later he heard Hermione come in; she sat down opposite him and waited for him to speak.

"You want to talk, right?" he said, leaning his head back, his eyes still closed.

"If it's not too much of a trouble, yes, I would," Hermione replied, her expression slightly annoyed.

His head snapped up and he glared at her. "Look, I never said I wanted to explain things to you. In fact, if I hadn't gotten involved with you, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't know my sister was a Death Eater and I wouldn't have told my dad, therefore my mother would still be alive."

Hermione glared back. "Are you blaming me for your mother's death?"

"If the shoe fits," he said nastily, watching her expression change to one of outrage.

"How dare you blame something on me that was your sister's doing!" Hermione cried, standing up and shaking her head at him. "I had _nothing_ to do with it. If you can't see that, then you're thicker than a brick!"

"I don't have to listen to you," Blaise replied, standing up also.

"Well, if you did, you'd be a whole lot smarter!"

"Really? Amazing, the wonderful Hermione Granger knows everything." He scoffed. "I'm surprised, really. I suppose that because I got one 'E' on my O.W.L.s I'm less intelligent? Because we all know only _smart_ people get all 'O's." A vase flew by his head and shattered on the wall. "Rotten aim."

Hermione glared at him, breathing heavily with rage. "You are such a _bastard_," she spat. "You think that because your sister killed your mum you are suddenly some walking, talking encyclopedia on everything! You make me sick sometimes, Zabini! _Sick_. And now you won't even listen to me, the _only_ sympathetic ear for you in the entire castle. Do you really think any of your Slytherin friends give a _damn_ about you, or your situation? Who knew someone I once considered in control and intelligent could be prey to such a common psychological problem." She stalked towards him, shaking her hand at him. "And if you can't realize that sometimes other people _care_ about each other, you're the stupidest person I've ever met! Why can't you ever just _listen_-"

But Blaise interrupted her before she could finish. "Because it's bullshit and I know it. Everything you say is bullshit, come to think of it." There was a loud crack as Hermione slapped him, hard, across the face. He stared down at her and narrowed his eyes angrily. "Bullshit," he said to her, picking up his bag and walking towards the door out.

"Where are you going? We're not finished here, Zabini," she said to him.

He turned around and looked at her, still angry, with one eyebrow raised. "_Au contraire_, Granger. We _are_ finished. Goodbye." Then he turned and walked out.

Once Blaise left the rooms, he kicked the wall and swore before heading towards the Slytherin common room. He arrived at the entrance and, muttering the password, went into the passageway that led to the common room, going to sit in a corner and ignoring everyone, thinking for while. Occasionally, people would come over to talk to him, but he would just tell them to piss off. Eventually Daphne ventured over to speak to him.

"Blaise?" she said. "Are you all right?"

"Piss- Oh, it's you Daphne," he replied. "No; no I'm not all right. I feel as if I've just fallen off my broomstick at an altitude of about four thousand feet, thanks."

Daphne blinked at this. "Oh. Why? Did something happen with Hermione?"

Blaise laughed bitterly. "Yes, something happened. I just broke up with her."

"Why?" asked Daphne, her eyes narrowing and her face becoming guarded.

"Last time I checked, we weren't dating, so I don't have to tell you," Blaise replied dryly.

Daphne poked him. "If your humor is still intact, you must be all right." She paused. "Or at least not permanently damaged. What happened?"

Blaise's mood darkened immediately. "I don't want to talk about it." He glanced around. "Where's Theo?" Daphne motioned somewhere vaguely behind her. "Thanks. I've got to talk to him, excuse me." He got up and walked over to find Theodore, finding him in another corner, surrounded by homework. "Theo, can we talk?"

Theodore looked at him from behind a large tome on Ancient Runes. "Sure. What about?"

Blaise lowered his voice and said, "Who in our year are Death Eaters? Or would be. Or will be."

Theodore frowned. "I thought you said you weren't one," he replied, his voice just as low.

Blaise shook his head. "I'm not, but I have to do something with one or as one."

"Are you sure you need to know, Blaise? Are you sure you want to do something like that? If they find out, they will kill you," Theodore told him.

Blaise nodded. "Yes, Theo, I need to know. This is _very _important."

Theodore sighed. "Fine. Draco Malfoy is, though he pretends not to be. I'm not sure if he's one just because of his father or not." Theodore went on to list several others and finally came down to one name. "Of course the ringleader for the Death Eaters would be Octavian Yarrow. None of them have the Dark Mark, though, since they cannot leave school to attend meetings."

"How do you know they haven't taken the Mark?" Blaise asked, glancing about for a moment.

Theodore looked amused. "I have seen them in the bathrooms, Blaise. It's sort of hard to hide a black Mark on your left forearm when you're completely naked."

Blaise smirked. "True. Thanks for the information." He turned to walk away but Theodore grabbed his arm.

"Blaise, if you're going to do what I think you're going to do, think twice. They're dangerous people, Death Eaters. Messing with the young ones is less, but it's still like jumping into a bathtub of enraged black mambas."

Blaise shook Theodore's hand off. "I'll be careful," he promised before looking around for Octavian and setting off towards a table in the dormitories. He borrowed a piece of parchment and closed his eyes, remembering what Lilithe's handwriting looked like before starting to write in her flowing, flower-like script. When he was finished with his forged letter, he blew it dry and rolled it up, tying it up. Getting up, he walked to Octavian.

"Yarrow," Blaise called when he was about ten feet away.

The tallish dark-haired boy with a semi-permanent look of malice on his slightly handsome face looked up from his game of Gobstones with Quentin Farn and nodded at him. "Zabini." He cocked his head at Blaise. "Is there something you want?"

Blaise took a seat next to Octavian and nodded slightly. "Yes, there is, actually." He leaned closer. "I've heard some whispers that indicate you might have some sway with the Dark Lord's followers."

Octavian frowned at him and waved away the people grouped around them. "I might," he agreed.

"Then you might be able to allow me into the group," Blaise said, willing himself to sound as sincere and interested as possible.

"I don't know if I could trust you, Zabini," Octavian said. "After all, you've been known to spend your time with Mudbloods and blood traitors, not to mention supporters of Dumbledore..."

Blaise spread his hands and nodded shortly. "Yes, I used to. But I've just realized in the wake of my mother's death the power that the Dark Lord can bring me...to defy death, to bring those I love anew...so I only desire to serve him, to help him reach his goal of immortality. The Dark Lord holds the secrets to unlocking immortality and real power, Octavian, and I wish to help him unlock those doors."

Octavian gave him a suspicious look. "Why should I believe you? You could easily be a spy. I need proof," he said. "After all, three weeks ago you were firmly neutral. Tell me, how in the world could your politics change so completely in such a short time?"

Blaise gave him an irritated look. "Octavian, I need no proof," he said.

"Really?" the other boy asked, leaning back in his seat and smirking at him. "Do tell me why, Zabini. I'd love to hear it."

Blaise's face darkened. "My sister would be very...displeased...if she knew you were treating me like this," he warned.

Octavian laughed. "Your sister? Zelphinia is just as neutral as you were, Zabini."

"I'm not talking about Zel."

"What then, June? She is, too."

"I'm not talking about June."

"Then who are you talking about, Zabini? You only have two sisters and I haven't got all evening." Octavian tapped his fingers impatiently.

"I'm talking about Lilithe Sererotti," Blaise said, and Octavian blanched. "My oldest sister. She's a Death Eater, I'm sure you know her." Octavian nodded and Blaise could see him starting to sweat. "Well, I have this letter from her. She's informed me to give it to you and I'm sure that you'll want to see it."

Octavian grabbed the roll of parchment that Blaise held out a little too quickly. As he read it, Blaise could see Octavian begin to twitch slightly. Blaise bit back the desire to laugh. He knew that what was in the letter was entirely plausible, seeing as how it was supposed to be Lilithe who had written it. If he'd gotten a letter like that, he supposed he would be nervous, too. Octavian's eyes raced over the lines several times before he looked back up at Blaise. "That...seems to be in order," he said slowly, as if trying to phrase his words carefully. "I'm sure that you'll be wanting to know some things, then." He swallowed before asking, "Why- Why didn't you ever mention _she_ was your sister?"

Blaise shrugged and lounged back. "There was never a point to mention it. I'm not one to swing around on a power trip, Yarrow, or haven't you noticed? No, I bring out my biggest weapons only when I need them. Until then, I'm pleased to be background noise." A sick grin spread across his face. "Then they don't hear you when you're sneaking up on them, about to finish them off."

Octavian gulped. "Fine, then. I daren't say no, they'd...well, you know what they'd do." He stuck out a hand. "Welcome to the fold, Blaise." Blaise shook the extended hand.

"Thank you...Octavian."

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Blaise stayed in the Slytherin common room all night, speaking with Octavian about the Death Eaters, hinting that Octavian would be punished if he didn't tell him everything that Blaise asked after. Around two in the morning, he found out what he had come for. The Death Eaters were planning an attack on the school within the next week or so; Octavian didn't know when, but only that it was soon. After this, Blaise was eager to get out of the conversation, but Octavian peppered him with questions about his family and most of all about his sister. An hour an a half later he left, weaving his way through the halls to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris. At one point he hid behind a statue in an alcove when he heard someone walking, but no one went past.

Finally he got back to his and Hermione's chambers at four o'clock. When he stormed into Hermione's room it was to find her gone, with all of her things missing from the tables and drawers; even her trunk was missing.

"Damn it all!" Blaise yelled, kicking the bed. "Damn it, the one time I find something _useful_ out, I've got no one to tell it to!" He limped over to his room and got into bed. All night he tossed and turned, unable to find peace in his dreams.

The next morning he dressed hurriedly, his tie askew and his outer robe inside out and ran to the top of the stairwell where he always saw the Gryffindors come down. When they stormed past him he searched for Hermione but didn't see her.

Grabbing a passing fourth year, he asked, "Hermione Granger. Where is she?"

The fourth year glared at him. "If you knew anything you'd know where she is, idiot. Let go!" The girl jerked her arm away and ran after her friends. He glared after her and paced for a moment, and then almost smacked himself, realizing where she was.

Now that there were people around, he walked quickly to the Library, nodded at Madame Pince, and started walking through all of the isles, looking for Hermione. He finally found her in the back of the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, sitting in a corner.

"Hermione," he hissed.

She looked up at him coldly. "Zabini," she replied, before going back to her book.

"Look, Hermione, I have to tell you something! It's about the-"

Hermione stood up and put the book up before glaring up at him. "Really?" she said. "You have to tell me something? Somehow, I get the feeling everything you say is bullshit. Get away from me, Zabini, and _stay_ away." She stalked off and he followed, trying to get her to speak to him, but she refused to say a word. Once they got into the Great Hall, Potter and Weasley glared at him, barking threats, until he saw Octavian stride through the door and he threw a cutting remark towards them before going to greet the other boy.

All throughout breakfast he was squirming inside, itching to jump up and run over, to apologize for saying what he had and to tell Hermione and her friends what he had learned. The whole time he was agonizing over this, he never once looked up to the Staff table. He never noticed that many of the teachers weren't there.

After breakfast, he was swept away in Octavian's group to classes, all of which had substitutes, which failed to register in his brain as he went through the motions of schoolwork, all the time trying to think of what to do, how to get to Hermione, how to tell her.

After a while, he was certain Hermione wouldn't ever speak to him again, so he started looking for professors. He started with McGonagall, but the substitute, who he didn't remember, said she was "out on business" but would return within the next few days. Then he moved on to Flitwick, but he, too, had a substitute and was out on business. Snape was gone, said yet another substitute, as was Vector, the Ancient Runes professor, and when he went traipsing down to Hagrid's hut, he discovered Hagrid was gone, too.

The only regular professors left in the castle were Trelawney, Firenze and the Astronomy professor. Blaise sat down on the marble staircase and put his head in his hands as laughing students walked past him. He barely resisted the urge to trip them and moved to sit in an alcove hidden by a tapestry.

At some point he fell asleep, and woke up around a quarter till four. He then got up and left the alcove, intent on finding Hermione and _making_ her listen, even if he had to chain her to a wall or something else just as drastic. But when he reached the library doors, he found them locked.

He was pondering what to do next when he heard screaming from the Entrance Hall, where he had just come from. He raced back to the top of the stairs and watched as Death Eaters stalked quietly into the school, branching out as they came in, going into every part of the building. Three were coming towards him. He turned to run, but they caught him.

"And who are you, young one?" asked one of the masked figures.

Blaise glared at him and tried to muster as much pride as he could, pinned to the ground by three Death Eaters. "Blaise Zabini," he said.

"Zabini!" they hissed, and let go of him as if he were hot coal. "You're _her_ brother, aren't you? She said no one was to touch him except her."

Blaise stood up and dusted himself off. "Yes, I am, and I've recently seen the light. You can ask Octavian Yarrow, if you wish. Come along. We've got students to convert...or kill."

He led them down several passages, purposefully doing this to confuse them. Thinking quickly, he sent one into a classroom and, muttering a Silencing Charm, he picked up a bench that had been put into the hallway for repair and brought it down on the other Death Eater's head. Hearing the other come back, he reversed the charm and quickly undid his necklace, tuning out everyone but the Death Eater.

When the Death Eater stepped into the hallway and saw the body of his companion, he hissed at Blaise, "You're one of _them_! A follower of Dumbledore!" and grabbed his wand. Blaise took that moment to reach into the Death Eater's mind and rooted around in the globule that was the man's mind-energy until he found the life source. He reached out and slowly squeezed it and he heard the Death Eater gasping for a few seconds before he went limp and fell onto Blaise. He opened his eyes and felt his stomach revolt against him as the Death Eater fell off him and onto the floor.

When his insides had settled, he put his necklace back on and took a pair of robes off one of the dead Death Eaters, putting them on before running off. He began to search around the castle, trying to think of where she would be, during this. Where she would be hiding from everyone and everything. Their rooms, he supposed, but when he looked there she wasn't anywhere in them.

Then it dawned on him: Gryffindor. She would be hiding in Gryffindor's common room and dormitories with everyone, away from the Death Eaters. The only problem was that he didn't know where the entrance to the Gryffindor common room was. He stomped around in Godric's office for fifteen minutes, the seconds dripping away seemed to take an age for him as he looked through papers and files and documents.

Finally he gave up, went into Hermione's old room and took down the blanket that covered the portrait of the Founders. He tapped it a few times until the figures woke up.

"What?" Rowena asked crabbily.

"Sorry for waking you," Blaise said. "But this is important. Death Eaters have invaded the school and I need to find Hermione. She's in the Gryffindor common room and I need to know where it is."

The portrait of the Founders frowned at each other and had a whispered conversation together, full of loud objections and louder affirmations. Finally, they turned back around and Godric told him where it was.

"The Tower is on the seventh floor and it's the only tower entrance on that floor, as you probably know," Godric told him as Blaise wrote down the directions to make sure. "I've heard quite a bit about these Death Eaters, boy. Enough to know what they're all about. Godspeed, son."

Blaise nodded and put the robes back on, turning to walk out when Godric's voice sounded again.

"Zabini?"

"Yes, Godric?" Blaise asked, halting suddenly.

"You'd better hurry with the rescuing. The wards succumbed three hours ago. There's nothing protecting the castle."

Blaise paled and slumped against the door jam. He muttered, "Shit, shit, shit," before leaving the chambers and making his way to the portrait marking the entrance to the Gryffindor common room by back passages and stairwells. When he got there, he began banging on the Fat Lady, causing her to object loudly. After a few minutes there was a voice from behind the portrait.

"Who's out there?" It was Potter.

"Potter, it's me, Blaise," Blaise told him. "I have to get in there."

"I saw you with Yarrow earlier, Zabini. We all know who he is and Hermione doesn't want you here. Go away before we make you."

"Potter, I _have_ to talk to you! I was just trying to be friendly with Octavian last night to get into his graces so he would tell me when he thought the Death Eaters would come! He told me last night and I tried to tell Hermione this morning but she wouldn't listen to me, so I couldn't warn you! I'm sorry this happened; I'm sorry you were caught by surprise, but none of the professors were here and Hermione wouldn't listen to me!"

"And what did you expect?" Hermione's voice said. "That I would just welcome you back, Blaise? I'm not desperate and I certainly don't need you to make me who I am."

"I know that!" Blaise said frantically. "It's just-"

"I wasn't finished," Hermione said quietly. "I'm sorry for not listening to you; I should've known you had something to tell me. It's partly my fault Harry didn't know. Hold on for a few moments, I'll try to get them to let you in."

There was a scrabbling noise and a moment later there was muffled arguing for a few minutes. He caught a few snatches, which amounted to Potter and Weasley not wanting to let him in, but Hermione was obviously winning. The scrabbling noise came back and the portrait swung open to reveal a hole about three feet off the ground. Hermione gasped at his attire.

He looked down and remembered the robes. Shrugging, he said, "It's the only way you can get around in here without them knowing you're not one of them. And they aren't doing identity checks today, not while they're securing the place."

"Even so," she whispered, "I think you should take them off, otherwise Harry and Ron will be very, very angry."

"If you say so, but I'm keeping them." He took off the Death Eater robes and stuffed them into his bag.

"Follow me," she said. He hopped up into the hole and crawled after her. They crawled for a few moments and then dropped into the Gryffindor common room. He looked around and took in the large, round room, draped in red and gold tapestries. It was also filled with students, not all of whom were wearing red and gold.

Before he could ask any questions, Potter and Weasley cornered him and forced him to sit down.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, her face full of more apologies, "but it's the only way I could get them to agree to let you in, if they could interrogate you."

"Look at it this way," Weasley said nastily, "it won't be nearly as bad as if the Death Eaters found you."

"I'm so relieved," Blaise said sarcastically. "Next, you'll be handing me a lollipop and calling me snookums."

"Bloody likely," Potter muttered. He reached to tie Blaise up, but Hermione stopped him.

"No, Harry," she said. "I said you could ask him some things, but you can't tie him up. That would only make him mad and I'm not sure if his charm would withstand that."

"It probably wouldn't, Potter," Blaise replied nastily, "and Lord knows we don't want the mean Slytherin Head Boy prying around in your head, do we? Even if you and the rest of that lot think so loudly I could hear it five miles away."

"I thought it blocked everything out," Hermione said.

"Well, it's a renewable charm. It _has_ to be renewed, otherwise it'll wear out. Every eight months, so that I don't have to leave school. But normally we renew it at Christmas, just in case. This year we didn't, though, and I had no idea how much it changes as it wears out. In big gathering, like in the Great Hall, I get a few whispers. Normally from the Gryffindor table, too." He rolled his eyes. "Gryffindors, I've found, are the loudest when it comes to _anything_. Cheering, thinking, walking, whatever. You make so much _commotion_."

"Shut up," Weasley growled.

"Fine. But then you won't find out what I've got to tell you. And it's very important." Blaise settled back in his chair. The common room stared at him expectantly.

"Well, _what_ then?" Potter asked impatiently.

"The wards. They went down about three and a half hours ago. Nothing's protecting the castle—except us."

The common room fell silent for a few moments and then people started to cry, to bunch off into groups and huddle together, anticipating certain death.

Loud cracks sounded and everyone screamed, looking at the steps. Luckily, they weren't Death Eaters, just McGonagall and Snape, along with Dumbledore, Flitwick and even Vector. They came down the stairs to be greeted with hysterical crying and a mob of students asking what was going on.

When Dumbledore finally quieted them all down and came over to talk to Potter, a voice sounded through everyone's minds; Blaise could tell because their features became confused.

"_Blaise...I know you are here...I can feel your presence. Come to the Dark Lord and you will be spared."_ There was a pause that lasted a moment or two. _"No? Then you and your Mudblood girlfriend will die in each other's blood and breathe your last even as you are begging for mercy." _

* * *

**A/N:** Cliffies are horrid, aren't they? Next chapter will be very, very long since it's the chapter-before-the-last! Hope you liked it; please review!


	29. War

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** So here's the second-to-last chapter! This is all an effort to get everything up by Christmas. Thanks to all the reviewers and to my beta. I love you all!

* * *

**Twenty Nine **

**War**

After the last echoes of Lilithe faded out of everyone's head, panic settled in and people started to scream and cry while they tried to cling to each other and ask Dumbledore about his plan at the same time. Quietly, the Headmaster beckoned Potter, Weasley, Hermione and Blaise over.

"Mr. Weasley, if you would be so kind as to remain here with your sister and calm the students while we try to formulate a plan upstairs?" Dumbledore asked.

"But sir, I would really-" Weasley started.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Come along Minerva, Severus. You too, Harry, Hermione. And you as well, Mr. Zabini." They all followed Dumbledore up the stairs into the first empty dormitory they came to. Once they were all seated, Dumbledore spoke again. "As you are all aware, Death Eaters have penetrated the castle wards. Voldemort cannot be far by now and most likely intends to search the school in a more…efficient manner than his followers have so far. What makes our situation much worse is the fact that around four hours ago the wards fell. We are now defenseless; anyone can now Apparate into any part of the grounds or castle at their desire." His blue eyes sharpened when he looked at Blaise and Hermione.

"Therefore, we have only a few choices. We have to keep the other students safe. I estimate the students we have secured must be only around two hundred and fifty of our full number. I would like to think that the remaining of the students are in the common rooms of the other Houses, but that cannot be the case, unfortunately. However, we must—_must_—ascertain whether or not these students are still alive and well, so someone will have to go out into the castle to see."

Potter stood up. "I will, professor," he said quietly. "I'm not afraid of Death Eaters."

Dumbledore smiled kindly, and replied, "As much as I know that to be true, Harry, I am afraid I cannot allow you to place yourself in so much danger. You are the key to Voldemort's defeat and they will be looking for you. No, it cannot be you. You must be wondering why I do not want to send Severus. The risk is too high and it would be too suspicious for him to be venturing near the House's common rooms. And we cannot afford that attention."

Blaise heard this and knew, instinctively, that Dumbledore had meant for him to do it. He pushed himself off the trunk he was seated on and walked over. "I'll do it, Headmaster." He grinned bitterly. "After all, I'm already a dead man—you heard her. Might as well do some good before they find me."

A hand grabbed his sleeve and pulled him around. "Blaise, _no_! You can't!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. "You- you could _die_!"

"That's the idea," he told her firmly, removing her hand and holding it in his. "Lilithe's got me marked anyway, Hermione. Either way I might die. At least this way, some good will be done before I do."

"How do you know Lilithe wants to kill you?" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "She could've been lying, Blaise, lying to get you out in the open so she could get her power out of you."

Blaise put his arm around her shoulders. "Hermione, if she wants her power back, she's not going to take it as delicately as she put it in. She's going to want to rip it out of me. It _will_ kill me, Hermione. And I don't want to have died without making a difference; without having the chance to save someone else's life. Do you understand?"

Hermione sniffed. There was an awkward silence behind them as she spoke, "Yes, I do understand Blaise. But I…I don't want you to die." She looked up at him and whispered, "I feel awful about this, but I'd rather have you here than anyone else." Tears fell down her cheeks unheeded as Blaise hugged her to him for a moment.

When he let her go, he placed his index finger over her lips and said, "No more talk of dying. If I die, I die. If I don't, I'll be here with you forever, I promise."

"Forever?" she said softly.

"Forever," he told her firmly. Turning around, he saw Dumbledore writing something on a piece of paper. "What's that, sir?"

"Passwords to the other common rooms, Blaise," Dumbledore said, finishing up his writing and holding it out to him. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Blaise felt Hermione stiffen behind him and he closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling everyone's surface emotions flooding into his mind. Then his eyes snapped open again and he held out his hand for the paper. "Yes, sir, I am."

Dumbledore handed him the passwords. "Then good luck. The Hufflepuff common room is in a cellar near the Potions classroom and the Ravenclaw tower entrance is on the fifth floor, though the tower itself is not far away from this one."

Potter walked up to Blaise and handed him a dirty old scrap of paper. Hermione gasped, "Oh, Harry!" Blaise looked down at it and handed it back. "Thanks Potter, but I don't need more parchment."

Potter sighed. Taking out his wand, he muttered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," over the parchment and a map appeared on it, a complete map of the school. Blaise inhaled sharply. "It's a map," Potter said. "Some friends gave it to me a long time ago and you can use it now. It's not like I'll need it for what I'll have to do." He smiled grimly.

Blaise grabbed Potter's hand and shook it. "Thanks…Harry," he said. "This will really help."

"What do we have here?" Snape said, gliding over and snatching the map. His face paled and he glared at Harry. "Potter, explain yourself."

Harry lifted his eyebrows smoothly and said, "I don't know what you mean, professor."

Snape shook the map. "I saw this very map in my office four years ago! Headmaster I demand-"

"-That I destroy a device that will help us defeat Voldemort?" Dumbledore said quietly. "I think not, Severus. Please give the map back to Blaise." Snape handed him the map grudgingly. "And while he is gone, we will try and construct temporary wards around the Gryffindor tower, as quietly as possible, hopefully." Snape nodded curtly and walked over to McGonagall, who was pale and drawn.

Blaise stuffed the magical parchment in his pocket and nodded at them all. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said. He turned to Hermione, but she waved him away. "Just go already," she said, her voice muffled. He hesitated and then left the room.

Leaving the common room, he put the Death Eater robes on again and took out the map. Looking through it, he finally found the Hufflepuff common room. It was in a cellar, down a flight of stairs two corridors over from the Potions classroom. Once he was down on the first floor, he stood helplessly for a moment as he tried to figure out how to get down into the dungeons without going down the main staircase. Then he remembered the map and began to look through it, finding a back staircase.

He wandered around for a while, dodging Death Eaters and barely avoiding a few, until he walked into a corridor with a statue of Merlin at the end and glanced at the map again. It had a bubble over the statue that said 'pumpkin pasties'. Blaise looked at the map for a moment, a bit confused, but then walked over to the statue and muttered, "Pumpkin pasties," over it. It slid into the wall and a flight of stairs appeared. He stepped onto them, casting the light charm and started the descent.

After he took a few steps he heard the statue close behind him and he resisted the urge to run back out. He continued down until he reached a doorway. Taking off the Death Eater robes, he stuffed them into his bag and tried the handle. It was jammed. He rapped on the door several times before there was a response.

"Who's there?" a suspicious voice called out.

"Me, Blaise Zabini," Blaise said. "Is that you, Zacharias? You need to get out of there, it's not safe."

"You're bloody right it's not safe," Smith said. "And _because_ it's not safe, we're not leaving!"

Blaise glared at the door. "Zacharias. You_ need _to get out of there! The Death Eaters are going through the castle killing everyone they find. Eventually they_ will _find you. It's not safe! Get out of there and I'll take whatever students you've got in there to the Gryffindor common room-"

"Yeah, right. We're not going anywhere, you idiot. We can ride this out here, safe in our common room. There aren't any Death Eaters who know where we are. We'll be fine!"

Blaise groaned, irritated. He'd never gotten along with Zacharias. "If you think they won't find you, you're the idiot, Smith. If you don't get out of there soon, the Death Eaters will get tired of whatever 'sport' they've found in the halls and start looking for you, all cozy and snug and above all _stationary_ in your little common room. And then, when they find you, there will be _no way out_. You will all _die_ because of your stupid pride that you are all fine and dandy in there. Do you hear me?"

"You don't know anything of Death Eaters, Zabini," sneered Smith. "They're not that smart. They can't find us. It's not like they can read _minds_." Blaise counted to ten silently while Smith went on. "You are so pompous with your little girlfriend's group, wrapped up in the cocoon Dumbledore made for you, and now something _real_ has happened and you've got your blown-up egos making you think you can deal with it yourselves, you prats, and you don't realize that we're better off here. So you can shove your theories up your-"

There was a thump and then Hannah Abbott's voice sounded. "Sorry about that, Blaise," she said through the door. Her voice shook and Blaise could tell she was being brave even though she was scared. "Zach thought we'd be safe here but I guess not, right?" Sounds of a barricade being moved were heard. A few moments later the door opened and Hannah stood there, a woozy Zacharias in the background, with about a hundred and twenty students standing behind her, looking wild and worried.

"We've got to get out of here," Blaise said. "I didn't see any Death Eaters coming through to your common room, but who knows where they might be... I think they've set up a base in the Great Hall and it's impossible for us to get anywhere near there without somehow attracting their attention. I have a map, though, that will take us to the Gryffindor common room fairly safely... Does anyone know how to do a Disillusionment Charm?"

A girl in the back raised her hand shakily. "I- I do," she said tentatively. "My father, he taught me…just in case, you know."

Blaise nodded approvingly. "All right then. Everyone who's in Advanced Charms, you should be good enough to learn the charm. So get the spell and start working it on people here. I'll start, too."

"Blaise, you know it?" Hannah asked as he stood behind her, getting his wand ready.

A muscle ticked in Blaise's cheek for a moment as images of the death that he had seen in his family flashed before his eyes. "Yes, I do," he replied.

"Why?" she asked. It was a simple question. But how often do simple questions have simple answers? In this world, not enough. Blaise knew this. And this particular question had so many answers, none of them simple.

He paused for a moment before answering. "Curiosity, mainly. Wanted to see if I could do it." And he had been able to do it. It had taken two days for the charm to wear off, too. They had been a fun two days; he had been excused from all family activities and spent the entire time in the library reading old books that his father normally wouldn't let him touch.

"And you could?"

"After four or five tries, sure. Hold still." He cast the charm and she faded into the scenery. "How does that feel?"

"Weird," she replied, her voice shaking a bit more.

"Good. That's how it's supposed to feel. Stay there; I'll be back once everyone's finished." Blaise moved away and started charming people as fast as he could.

After about fifteen minutes, everyone had been Disillusioned and had everything they were going to bring with them, he donned his Death Eater robes after explaining to them he had to wear them to be able to go around in the halls safely and led them out of the Hufflepuff common room.

Winding through corridors and dodging Death Eaters, who were now trying to secure the second floor, where the ghosts were doing whatever they could to fend them off, Blaise led them all the way up to the seventh floor and back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Leaning against the wall because they had had to sprint up a flight of stairs to avoid being seen, Blaise got his breath back in a few seconds, muttered the password to the Fat Lady and let all of the students in ahead of him before he closed the portrait behind them, making sure no one was out there, watching them.

As he climbed through the portrait hole, Blaise listened to the sounds of the Hufflepuffs having the Disillusionment charm taken off of them and heard the hysterical laughter that welled up after everyone had been de-charmed, now that they regarded themselves safe once again. He started towards the stairs to the dormitories, but he saw they were crowded, impossible for him to get through. He looked through the crowd of students and didn't see Hermione, so he walked over to Hannah Abbott, who was sitting in a corner, smiling. "Hannah?"

She looked up at him. "Yes, Blaise?"

"If you see Hermione, tell her…" He struggled with the thought of saying something so personal through a third party. "Tell her…tell her I'm being careful. That I'll be back soon, hopefully."

Hannah smiled, understanding. "I'll tell her." He started to walk away, but she tugged on his arm. "Blaise?"

Blaise turned back. "Yes?"

She kissed his cheek. "Thank you, thank you so much."

His mouth twitched into a smile for a moment. "I do my best," he told her. He saw her trembling a bit and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "You be careful, all right, Hannah? Go find Hermione, she- she probably needs some company right now." Hannah nodded stoically, but he could see the tears that threatened spill through her eyes so he turned away and quietly went through the portrait hole again.

* * *

This time, the journey to the Ravenclaw common room was easier. Dumbledore had said it was on the fifth floor. The trouble was, Blaise couldn't figure out which section of wall it was behind. Every time he looked at the map, it said the entrance was either behind him, in front of him or far to the left or right of him. And this was when he was standing still! Deciding Rowena Ravenclaw was a sneak and cheat at placing the location of her House's common room, he finally set to tapping the walls as quietly as he could, to find a hollow spot behind it. After two solid minutes of tapping the wall—and once kicking it—he found the entrance behind a tapestry of someone trapped in the Minotaur's maze, which was exactly how he felt.

Muttering the password at the wall, he limped his way to the entrance and banged on the barricade that blocked the way. Padma Patil's voice sounded through. "Who is that?"

"Blaise Zabini," he said, holding his foot, which really, really hurt. "Damned wall," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing... Look, Padma, the Death Eaters are going to find you soon so you need to evacuate-"

"Not so fast, Zabini," Padma's voice said. "I need proof."

"That the Death Eaters have overrun the castle?" he asked incredulously.

"No, you idiot. That you're you. I can't let these kids out of my protection just because some guy comes up sounding like Blaise Zabini and says we need to evacuate. I need proof." Her voice was stern and unwavering. He sighed, annoyed.

"When you came in third in Arithmancy two years ago," he said in a low voice that only she would hear, "you went up to the North Tower and cried for an hour until I found you by accident and…er, comforted you." He coughed for a moment, taken back into the awkward situation it had been.

She coughed too and said, "All right, remove the barricade and let him in to explain himself." A minute or two later, the barricade was taken down enough for Blaise to crawl through and then it was put back up.

Padma stood rather like a commander would in front of her troops as she faced Blaise. Behind her were about eighty kids, looking frightened out of their wits, much like the Hufflepuffs were when he first saw them earlier. "Well?" she asked, tapping her foot as if she had better things to do than speak to him. "Get on with it. No time for dithering."

"Where's Anthony?" Blaise asked, looking around for him.

"He's upstairs with the younger kids," Padma said, her face softening. "They…have been a bit upset. They were one corridor over when some Death Eaters got ahold of some second year girls and…well, you know." Blaise nodded.

"Well, all I have to tell you is what you already know. The Death Eaters have stormed the castle. We can only think that they'll soon come trying to get into the common rooms before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named arrives. And I think he's going to get here soon. I've got this…feeling. Anyway, Dumbledore sent me to get you into the Gryffindor common room and I've got the Hufflepuffs out already so I just have to get you guys out."

"So?" Padma asked, still tapping her foot impatiently. Blaise nearly screamed.

"So? So you should get everyone who knows the Disillusionment Charm to get in here soon so we can start trying to charm everyone. There weren't any Death Eaters when I came down here, but that doesn't mean there won't be when we go back."

"Okay. Fine." Padma turned to a girl behind her, said something Blaise didn't hear, and the girl ran off, presumably to get all those who were good at Charms.

The Ravenclaw common room refugees were much quicker than the Hufflepuffs had been. Within minutes, everyone was in the common room and they were getting spelled. Barely two minutes after that they were following Blaise back down the passageway and into the corridors. He took the Map out again and led them through the back halls, twice avoiding Death Eaters by a hairsbreadth. They got back to the entrance of Gryffindor Tower and Blaise let them in, again waiting until the last chameleon-like student was de-charmed before slumping into a chair.

Blaise fell into a doze until suddenly he was woken up by someone shoving a mug of tea into his hands. He looked up to see Hannah Abbott standing there, smiling. "Thought you might want some tea," she said, rather shyly.

"Thanks," he replied, already sipping the tea. It was scalding, but just what he needed. "How'd we get tea, anyway?"

Hannah sat next to him. "After the Headmaster and professors Snape and McGonagall put up the wards—with the help of a few students, I think—they somehow blocked off the Floo access. After that we started getting hungry and the house-elves showed up then and started to cook." She waved a hand in the direction of three hard-at-work House-Elves.

Blaise nodded and took another few sips of tea. "Thanks again for the tea, Hannah," he told her, getting up and nodding at her. "I have to go talk to Harry now, all right?"

"You'll be back later?" She looked at him with an odd expression he'd never seen before. To placate her, he nodded before making his way over to the staircase and heading up to find Harry and Ron, neither of whom he'd seen in the common room among the throng of students.

As he picked his way up the steps he thought about what he was going to say to Hermione. Feelings washed over him, strange feelings. One was a sense of foreboding, and he felt as if someone was going to die. For some strange, terrible reason, he thought it was him. The other feeling was one of intense warmth; it sent chills and goosebumps down his entire body when he thought of it. It banished all thoughts of the previous feeling. He knew what it was: Love. Love, love for life, love for his family—those who weren't murderers—and, most of all, love for Hermione. It didn't come out of nowhere, he knew that. And yet…it seemed so sudden. He knew it had been staring him in the face since she had met his family and survived it so stoically, without exploding—literally or metaphorically. He resolved to tell Hermione, but not now. Not while everything was so dangerous, while they could be killed. He didn't want her to mourn him for the rest of his life if he fell. So he would save this for a more joyous occasion, perhaps after the Dark Lord's defeat—if he was defeated.

He reached the room they had been in before, opened the door quietly and slipped in. Weasley, Harry, Hermione, Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall were sitting tensely, except for Hermione who was also twitching slightly.

"I'm back," Blaise said softly. They all jumped.

"Oh thank God!" Hermione exclaimed and ran over to him hugging him tightly. He looped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "I'm fine," he said into her hair. Her head bobbed up and down but he still heard muffled snuffling against his chest.

Dumbledore gave him a grave look. "You have succeeded?" he asked.

Blaise nodded. "As you know, of course. The level of noise has intensified over the last few hours, I'm sure. The students from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw common rooms are safe here."

"Surely," Snape said, "you mean the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students."

Blaise gave him a level look. "No. The beauty of this attack is that it forced us to form some sort of inter-House unity. Among both the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students there were some from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and a few from each other. The only reason I can think that there weren't any students from the other Houses in Gryffindor common room before I brought the students from Hufflepuff is that the Gryffindor common room is so high up that there are few classrooms near here, so there weren't any other students to be taken in." He turned to Dumbledore. "Now the only common room needing to be checked is the Slytherin common room. I can go, if you want."

"No!" Hermione interjected, her face becoming visible again as she loosened her grip on Blaise.

"Hermione, if I have to do it, I _have_ to do it," he told her reasonably.

"No. You can't do any more dangerous things, Blaise, you _can't_!"

He ignored this statement. "What do you think, Headmaster?"

The Headmaster considered this. "While I would say that might be a good suggestion, Blaise, after your sister's…announcement…we can hardly allow you to go anywhere near where she might be. And, sadly, there might be a great deal of Death Eaters in the Slytherin common room. So we must relegate ourselves to accepting that they are in the hands of the enemy."

Snape stepped forward. "I will go, Headmaster."

Dumbledore frowned. "I do not think that you should, Severus-"

"I have to, Headmaster," Snape slid in smoothly. "Otherwise they will think I am a traitor and all my work will have been for nothing. I will have to report anyway, once the Dark Lord arrives and _that_ I cannot be late for. So it is best if I go now."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Go, then. Be careful Severus. We shall need your help in the battle ahead." Snape nodded curtly and stepped out of the room.

Conversations resumed around Blaise as he sank onto a bed and closed his eyes, sinking into thought. Lilithe surfaced in his mind and he shuddered a bit. His sister truly scared him—scared him out of his mind. She had gone from being his older sister to being someone who was a bully and a menace to being someone who could—and would—kill him the minute she saw him, if possible. His family was torn apart because of her. Before, it had been precarious at best, but now…anything else would cause them to fall apart. He couldn't let that happen. He had to do something, anything, to save them.

Blaise's thoughts were then interrupted by a loud cheer that sounded like it came from the part of the grounds by the Entrance Hall. He jumped up and rushed over to the window with everyone else in the room and crowded around it to see the Death Eaters grouped around one person, bowing and scraping to him.

"Voldemort," Harry breathed. "He's here."

Cold washed over the room and Blaise shivered again. Hermione spoke up, not looking back at Dumbledore, "Headmaster, where is the rest of the Order?"

"They are on their way. That is why it took so long constructing the wards around the tower; we had to allow for the Order to Apparate in, but no one else." Dumbledore sighed and Blaise saw him look, for a moment, almost completely worn out before he pulled himself together and became himself again. "They should be here in an hour."

"Good," Hermione replied. Blaise saw her shudder and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, drawing her near to him. "I'm scared Blaise," she whispered to him. "I don't want to die."

"You won't," he assured her, stroking her hair with her head tucked under his chin. "You won't. I promise."

"I don't want you to die either, Blaise," she said, just as quietly. "Promise me you won't." He was silent and finally she looked up at him. "Blaise?"

He avoided her gaze as he answered, "Of course not, Hermione."

The hour passed with them watching the Death Eaters mass out on the grounds and then break up into smaller groups. At one point, Harry wordlessly handed Blaise a pair of omnioculars and Blaise lifted them to his eyes and quickly found Lilithe, standing under a tree, staring up at the tower. Their eyes met and her pale hand lifted and she waved a bit, laughing madly as he tore the omnioculars away from his eyes and jumped back from the window, broken out in a cold sweat.

Bangs sounded from above, signaling the arrival of the mysterious "Order". The members filed through the doors and Blaise recognized, vaguely, the Weasley family (identifiable by their bright red hair); Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbaton Champion from the Triwizard tournament; Mad-Eye Moody; Professor Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt, a friend and occasional source of information of his father's. Many more poured through the door until they filled the room, sitting on any flat surface and, in the case of Fleur Delacour, on the lap of one of the older Weasley sons.

Within minutes, a few were chosen to stay behind and guard the younger students, only to come and fight if necessary. During the organization of who was to fight who, a loud explosion of noise out on the grounds indicated the arrival of the Ministry forces. Once again, Blaise turned to the window and he saw hundreds of Ministry officials fighting the Death Eaters that had been lounging about on the grounds. Hagrid appeared out of the Forbidden Forest with a woman who looked like the Beauxbaton Headmistress, Madame Maxime, and with several Giants behind them to counter the Giants of Voldemort's that appeared from behind the castle to attack the Ministry forces. Blaise's eyes flew from person to person but he could not see Lilithe anywhere. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind and found that she was in the castle somewhere. He would have to fight her soon.

"Then we are all agreed?" Dumbledore said. There was a general murmur of agreement and as they left the room, Blaise whispered to Hermione, "What happened? I didn't listen; I was watching out the window."

They went down the staircase and filed towards the portrait hole , and Hermione whispered back, "We're going to try and protect Harry as he goes to get Voldemort. Dumbledore, Ron and I are going to stay with Harry and be his bodyguards, of a sort."

Blaise nodded. "Oh."

Hermione looked up at him and squeezed his hand. "Don't worry; we'll all be all right. Trust me, Blaise, I know we will be." But a tremor in her hand suggested otherwise. He smiled comfortingly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

They had only made it down one floor before Blaise suddenly stopped. "Stop!" he hissed hoarsely. "Stop…she's here."

Dumbledore turned around. "What should we do?" he asked Blaise. "I must admit, I have little experience with people like Lilithe."

Blaise looked at the people grouped around him. "Run," he said. "She doesn't want you, but she'll kill you if you're here to protect me. And trust me, in the way she and I can kill, there's no way you'll survive it and I can't protect everyone, even with this extra…stuff…inside of me."

"'Extra stuff'? What exactly do you mean?" Dumbledore asked.

Blaise glared at them. "I mentioned she has power reserves? Well, I lied. She has _a_ power reserve, one reservoir, one place she's placed all the power she's gathered and for the last three years she's quite cheerfully placed it all in me and it's become incorporated into me so that I _remember_ all the things that she took the power from. I've got memories from countless people and I hate it. I'm her power and she can't do anything but try to take it back before I use it. Now _get out of here_ before she comes. _Get out_! _RUN!_"

The Order looked at him blankly for a moment before starting to run. Hermione gave him a goodbye look before she ran with them.

When they were all out of sight, he sighed and carefully undid the necklace his charm hung on and slipped it into his pocket. He wouldn't need it; he knew what was going to happen. Thoughts slid into his mind and so did many other things. He pushed them aside and focused on finding Lilithe. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes abruptly and dove into a corridor about five feet away from him before a Killing Curse hit the spot he had been standing. He rolled and scrambled to stand up, whipping out his wand and pressing his back to the wall, trying to breath as quietly as possible.

"Blaise?" called Lilithe. Even her voice was seeped with madness now. Killing so many, he supposed, had leeched out her humanity slowly, until she was completely maddened, evil and perversely twisted. "Blaise…come out and play, dear Blaise. I won't hurt you…much."

"Even if I believed you," Blaise said, "I wouldn't come out. Bitch."

Lilithe's laugh sounded. "Name calling? What a bad boy you've been. Seems daddy wasn't as good a parent as mummy was—though at least he didn't _lie_ to us about our parentage, did he, hmm? But you don't see me calling _you_ names, do you?"

Blaise edged towards the edge into the corridor where Lilithe was and hissed out a spell he had learned from Slytherin's books he had read. Lilithe screamed, so he peeked around and saw her writhing on the floor with blood pouring out of her nose and eyes. He ran for it, hoping whatever it was would keep her detained long enough for him to find a hiding place.

An hour later, he had had no such luck, for a moment or two after he had began running he heard her footsteps behind him and a few hissed curses were aimed his way. He dodged them in the same way he had dodged the Killing Curse and the third time he dove into a new corridor he broke his left arm, landing on it the wrong way. He screamed in pain and his sister's laugh sounded again. Scrambling up again, he took off running for a staircase that was just changing.

He leaped from it to the fifth-floor platform where it had been before it started to change. He landed heavily, hastily crawled behind a pillar and leaned up against it, panting. Footsteps marked Lilithe's approach. He got to his feet again and jogged, limping a bit from the landing, and winced as he noticed an open cut on his leg, a mark from where he had failed to dodge one of her curses.

Within about four corridors from the staircase, Blaise found an alcove with a bench so he sat down and leaned against the wall, allowing himself to relax for a moment before he began his final preparation for an offense. Closing his eyes, he settled inside of himself and began examining his power source. Soon he found the larger, brighter ball of white fire that marked the power Lilithe had siphoned into him slowly over the past three years. He began taking it, bit by bit, and feeding it into his own power source, which was depleted beyond what he had even felt it. He supposed, as he carefully merged the new power with his own, that much of it had been used unconsciously blocking the curses Lilithe sent at him and allowing him to be as energized as he was.

A few minutes later, when he opened his eyes, he felt much better, though his hand was still throbbing with a dull ache. Closing his eyes again, he began working on the spell he had been thinking of for the past few days, since his mother had been killed.

Most of it was designed to paralyze whoever it was cast on. The rest was for the receiver to loose all willpower. As he finished it, barely conscious of the footsteps that his ears picked up on, he examined it and was satisfied. He opened his eyes once more and, spell ready for use, he gripped his wand and stood up, limping towards the footsteps.

Lilithe was in sight within a few moments of him walking. "Blaise!" she crowed. "Come to face your death like a man? That's very odd for someone raised by that oafish, degenerate, insult to the title of-" Her eyes clouded over as he muttered the words to the spell and pointed his want directly at her. She had no time to shield herself and she screamed as the spell hit her. An unearthly, inhuman scream that resonated through the castle and caused Blaise to shudder for minutes later.

Blaise advanced on her form on the floor and reached out with two fingers to touch her temple with his right hand. He closed his eyes and entered her mind. To him, it appeared a large black mass teaming with even darker shapes lurking behind every corner. He pushed through it to her life source; it was smaller than it should ever be in anyone and thread-like black tendrils were hooked into it, leeching bits of it away into the dark mass of her mind. He took his own power and formed it into the shape of a diamond-sharp, star-bright, glowing knife. He raised it, but stopped, seeing her power source not too far away. He paused and went to it, shocked at how large it was.

"She didn't use any of it on me," he whispered. The blood drained from his face and he realized what she would have used it on, how she would have used it once he was captured. Stoically, he went back to her life source and he plunged his power-knife into it, severing it from her and from her mind and absorbing its power into his own.

His eyes flew open and he saw her body twitching violently. He backed away, slowly at first and then running as fast as he could, ignoring the pain in his leg. He made it to the giant stairway enclosure and dove out into the open as her body exploded; her power flooding out into the castle, causing the stones to explode as well as the raw magic energy touched them.

Time stood still as he seemingly floated down, light as a feather, the castle exploding around him. The third floor passed him by as he touched his power and tried to form something to surround him. He had almost got it—it teetered into shape, tenuously leaving his mind and entering physical existence—when he blacked out. The last thing he saw was the floor speeding towards his face.

* * *

Outside on the grounds, Hermione was fighting a Death Eater to keep him away from Harry as he finished his battle with Voldemort when the castle exploded. The night sky exploded into noontime glory and left sparks on their eyes even while Harry finished Voldemort off while he was distracted, destroying him for good. The wave of energy streaming off the building hit the outer edges of the Ministry and Order fighters as they attempted to finish off whatever Death Eaters they were fighting. They didn't succeed and the Death Eaters Apparated away, seeing the wave coming towards them.

Time stood still for a long moment and Hermione saw everything that happened around her. Then it whipped back in a frenzy and the wave hit the outer edges of fighters and seconds later it hit her and she fell over.

Hermione was conscious for a few moments after the shock. She turned towards the castle.

"Blaise…"

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I know another cliffie. Sorry! But rest assured that the next chapter will clear up a great deal, since it's the last one. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter so please, please review!


	30. The End

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed.

But mainly: So, so, so, _so_ much thanks to my beta reader, James, who has been with me since before chapter one was finished and even went through one shots with me and put up with my long spells of not producing anything at all. Without him, this fic really couldn't have made it. I know this kind of thing is supposed to go at the beginning of the fic, but I'd like to say this fic is dedicated to him for being such a great beta. Thank you so much James. :)

* * *

**Thirty **

**The End**

After the battle, the survivors had been too exhausted to search for Blaise, barely managing to set up tents and cots to sleep in. The next morning, the sun dawned red and as its rays washed over the tired combatants and the bodies of the slain they all turned towards the ruined castle. There had been a few crashes and noises from within the crumbled stone since the explosion but neither Blaise nor Lilithe had emerged.

They spent the day burying the bodies, one by one, not bothering to hold individual services for them, instead having one big service where only the names of the dead were read off. The day went on and they worked hard, barely holding in the sorrow encompassing the grounds. Especially Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, everyone agreed. Charlie Weasley had died on the battlefield by diving in front of a curse aimed at his sister, Ginny. Lavender Brown had been dragged off somewhere during the fray. So far they had only found a piece of her arm. For a while they thought Snape had been killed or dragged off, but he walked onto the grounds half past noon, his robes blood-soaked and tattered; he refused to say what had happened to him. Draco Malfoy showed up hours after Snape did, also covered in bloodstains. Hermione hadn't heard his testimony, but Snape had vouched for him so Harry grudgingly allowed him to stay.

Hermione looked over the graves. Filius Flitwick's was immediately in front of her, he had died protecting two of the sixth years that had volunteered for the fight; Dedalus Diggle's was four rows up to her right, he had helped them get to Voldemort; Hestia Jones's was two spaces up and to her left, she had been part of the diversion to keep the Death Eaters away from Harry; and several hundred more were part of the death count. She did a quick estimate and winced at the number – almost four hundred graves in total.

A loud shifting of stone made her jump and she turned to stare at the castle. Parts of the stone were shifting aside and she stared for a moment before shouting out, "Help, everyone! Someone's coming out of the wreck!"

Hermione took off running towards the castle, but Snape managed to get in front of her, his wand at the ready. "Miss Granger, I realize you want whoever this is to be your boyfriend, but there is a real possibility that it is indeed his very dangerous older sister and she is out for blood."

A voice from under the stone said, "Oh right, because _clearly_ I cannot have succeeded. Thanks for the vote of confidence, professor."

"Blaise!" Hermione exclaimed. She lifted her wand. "_Wingardium leviosa_." The stone lifted into the air and she moved her wand so it would drop several feet away. Blaise's head became visible amongst the dirt and dust that flew up with the rock.

"Help, please, someone," he said, coughing. "She's quite heavy; I can't pull her and me out."

Snape's wand flew back up at the ready. "She? Your sister is alive?"

Blaise grunted as two Ministry Aurors came to pull him out. "No. She's dead. It took me an hour to find her, though, under all of that."

"Find her?" Snape asked. "Why?"

Blaise glared at him. "Guess," he snapped. The Aurors set him onto his own feet and he collapsed, yelling in pain.

"Blaise, your leg!" Hermione said. She rushed over to him and tentatively touched the leg. He hissed as her fingertips touched his kneecap—or what had once been his kneecap. "It's broken. Where's Madame Pomfrey?" she asked, looking around. "Someone, go get her, quick!"

"It won't help," he muttered.

"What? Why?"

He looked away. "It just won't." She leaned closer to him, accidentally pressing down on his knee. He yelped and passed out.

A few minutes, later Madame Pomfrey arrived, but for some reason she was unable to heal Blaise's leg or his left arm. She gathered up a quick splint and they carried him to the area where they were tending the wounded. A small tent was set up around Blaise after it appeared he wasn't going to wake up and Hermione went between standing by his cot and Harry's, who had also suffered many wounds, including a broken wand arm. After a day went by and he still hadn't woken up, she wrote to his father. There was no response.

The second day he was unconscious, both Hermione and Harry sat by his bed. Ron came in and stood by the door for a while.

"Hermione," Ron ventured after a while, "how do you know he's going to wake up? He's been through a lot. _I've_ been through a lot. _You've_ been through a lot. If I was him, I might just want to…stay wherever I was."

"He's going to wake up," she said firmly, her folded hands clenching together in her lap. She continued, whispering, "He's going to wake up. He has to, Harry. You'll see."

Harry eyed her carefully and then responded, "I hope so, Hermione. I hope so."

There was silence for a moment until Hermione whispered so softly even she almost couldn't hear it, "I know so."

The rest of the day passed in relative silence, broken only when Harry excused himself to walk for a few moments or when they went to the toilet. Occasionally, someone would come in with food. They would eat in silence and then someone would come take it away.

Hermione slept in a chair by Blaise's cot all that night as she had done since he had been found, one hand resting on the blankets to make sure she would wake up if he moved. When the morning came, she was awake before everyone else, moving about for a few minutes readying some things for people before going back to sit by Blaise.

By mid afternoon, she had almost given up hope that he would ever wake up. She dosed off for a little while, and woke when she heard rustling. Thinking it was the nurse, she kept her eyes closed when responding, "Thanks Poppy, but I'm not hungry."

"Yes, well, I am," she heard Blaise say. His voice was cracked and raspy. Her eyes flew open and she almost launched herself onto him before realizing it would do far more harm than good. She leaned over and hugged him, resting her cheek on his chest for a few moments. His good arm wrapped around her shoulders and she felt his cheek on the top of her hair.

"You're awake," she whispered. Poppy quietly deposited the food on a tray and left them alone after checking Blaise quickly for anything that needed immediate tending to.

"Yes, I am awake. Hand me that food, will you? I'm starving. No, wait. Water first. Loads, if you don't mind." She handed him the glass of water and he gulped it down rapidly. "Ah. Much better." Blaise's face split into a wide grin. "So. I'm alive."

"You are," Hermione replied, tears trickling down her cheeks.

He leaned back onto the pillows and she went back to her chair. "Well, now what? I actually hadn't planned on this. I rather thought I'd be dead if I succeeded and I knew I would be if she had."

Hermione laughed feebly. "Well...now, I guess you can just be with me."

"I guess I can," he said, smiling faintly at her. He put his good arm on the edge of the cot and pushed himself over to one side, grunting with the effort. "Here," he said, after he was where he wanted to be, "come and sit with me."

She sat on the cot and leaned against him. "I have to ask," he said, his voice becoming emotionless and when she looked at him, his eyes were closed. "And I know if you haven't burst out with 'Dumbledore will be here soon' it only means one thing." He opened his eyes and stared into hers. "What happened? How did he...die?"

Hermione's eyes welled up and she sniffed a few times. "I- I didn't want to tell you before you'd recovered-"

Blaise interrupted. "Hermione, I don't know if I'll ever heal from this. My arm and my leg, sure they'll heal. But I don't know if I'll be able to live with what I did."

"Blaise, she was evil. She was going to _kill_ you, going to kill other people. For sheer enjoyment!" Hermione exclaimed.

He sighed and settled back against the pillows. "I know. But she was still my sister. That's why I had to get her out of there. What- what did they do with her?"

"They burned her body," she replied quietly. "And then burned the ashes. I think Professor Snape spit on her before they lit the pyre up, though."

Blaise laughed. "Well, he had the right," he said when she stared at him in horror. "She ruined his life, in several ways. She ruined other people's lives too, and ended even more. It's very fitting, what they did." He sobered up. "Tell me about Dumbledore."

She sighed and leaned up against him again. "He was with Harry, Ron and I, you know that. Helping us get to Voldemort, so Harry could...destroy him. While Harry was fighting, we three were supposed to guard him, which we did. Dumbledore did most of it, though. Then, maybe two minutes before the castle...exploded, a Death Eater appeared out of nowhere. I think it was Lucius Malfoy. He had me, and was going to drag me off, to kill me, when Dumbledore stopped him. It was a diversion, though, to get his attention off the rest of the battle. Another Death Eater killed him, from behind. Then both of the Death Eaters disappeared into the battle. A minute later, the castle exploded and all the living Death Eaters Apparated away. Then everything went black."

Blaise was quiet for a long time. "Did they already have the funeral?"

"No. We were waiting for...well; I don't know what we were waiting for. But I think it might have come, somehow."

"Have you heard from my father? I'm assuming you wrote him, of course. Or that he wrote to you."

"No, not yet. I wrote two days ago so if he was in Italy he might not have gotten the-"

"Blaise!" shouted Zachary's voice from somewhere on the other side of the medical area. "Blaise Zabini, where are you?" Beneath the anger in his voice was an undercurrent of fear.

Someone must have directed Zachary to Blaise's room because he burst in a few moments later and threw himself at his son.

"Oh thank God," he muttered, hugging Blaise to him.

"Dad," Blaise said, his voice muffled, "I can't breathe." Zachary let go of him then and pulled a chair over to the edge of the bed as the tent flap opened and Roan came in, followed by about twenty of the survivors—and a few people from the press.

"Mr. Zabini, is it true you were in the Hogwarts castle when it collapsed? How did you get out in one piece?" shouted one reporter. The others continued in several foreign languages until Zachary started shouting at them in even more languages, his voice sounding much less happy than it was before.

"What's he saying?" Hermione asked.

Blaise laughed under his breath for a moment. "Nothing I will translate," he replied.

A few moments later the reporters and well-wishing busybodies were ushered out by a glaring Snape, who then turned to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, as much as I understand that you wish to be joined at the hip with Mr. Zabini at this point in time, I must _insist_ that you leave."

Hermione glared at him. "And if I don't?"

Snape lifted an eyebrow and said, "Then I shall have to insist a bit more firmly." His hand twitched towards his pocket. Hermione made a disgusted noise and got up to leave. "Please send Mr. Potter in, if you would."

"Fine!" she yelled back at them. "But when you're done, I'm coming back!"

"Was that necessary, Severus?" Zachary asked.

"Not completely, but it was enjoyable," Snape said, settling in a chair. "And once Mr. Potter arrives, I believe we will hear about what happened between your son and daughter."

"Oh will we?" Blaise asked, petulantly sarcastic.

Snape fixed him with a look and said, mildly, "Yes. We will."

Blaise glared at him. "Fine."

The tent flap opened again and Harry came through. "Hermione said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, sit down, Potter," Snape said, motioning towards a chair. "Mr. Zabini has some things he would like to tell us. Don't you, Mr. Zabini." It was not a question.

Blaise sighed and moved around for a bit, getting more comfortable. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"Go on," Zachary said.

Blaise closed his eyes and leaned back. "After I told everyone to run, I began to, well, 'look' is the best way to describe it. I 'looked' for Lilithe in the thoughts that were coming into my head and had to dive into a corridor to avoid a Killing Curse she sent after me.

"She chased me for an hour, all around the castle. Up stairs, down stairs. I think one of the only things that saved me was that I've been going to Hogwarts for seven years and she'd been there once. I knew how to get around, how and where to hide. She didn't. At one point I had to dive away from her again, but this time I broke my arm.

"We neared the staircases. I heard grinding and knew one was just changing. So I ran for it and dove on to it just before it got out of reach of the platform I was on. Unfortunately, the staircase I was on lead to a section of the castle that didn't have anywhere to get out and back into the main part of the castle. But the staircase bought me time. Several minutes, though it seemed almost an hour at the time.

"I told you she had stored power in me. Somehow, I figured out how to transfer the power from just being stored to coming into my 'source', as it were. There was quite a lot of it; I can only imagine what she would have used it for. So when I was done with that, I devised a spell that would paralyze her.

Blaise described everything and shock kept his listeners in silence for several minutes, and Blaise squirmed under their open-mouthed gazes.

"It isn't as if I did what Harry did," he said, glaring at them. "I didn't rid the world of an evil madman. It's not like I saved the world from someone who would kill everything non magical."

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, Blaise, I would say you did, actually. Your sister…she was pretty evil, from what I've heard."

"Shut up and stop being fair," Blaise replied. "I don't want to feel good about; I just killed my sister! My own fucking sister! Would you want to be commended for it? Because if you would like that, you're a sick bastard."

Zachary stood up abruptly. "I think my son and I have to be alone for a little while." Snape, Roan and Harry nodded and left quietly. Zachary turned back to Blaise. "Son, it's all right-"

"No, it's not!" Blaise choked back a sob. "She was evil and I hated her but I can't stop feeling sad. I can't not mourn her! I still love her, damn it. She was my _sister_. And I _killed_ her."

Zachary came over and hugged Blaise tightly. "What you did was right. Your sister would have killed every one of us sooner or later if you hadn't stopped her. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that. And while you will struggle with this for a while, eventually you will realize what exactly you've done for this world. Just like Harry has. You've saved everyone you loved, just like he has."

Blaise wrenched himself from his father's arms and got out of his bed, snatching his wand as he left his tent. "I am not a savior!" he said to his father, who followed him.

"Blaise, sit down. Sit down _now_!" yelled Zachary. Blaise ignored him and left the infirmary, shaking off Hermione and Madame Pomfrey. He continued out into the main area of the camp, right outside of the infirmary tent, and gave the people milling around a glare.

"I am not a savior!" he screamed at them. "I'm not your savior; I'm not my own savior. I sure as hell never wanted to be a savior. Stop saying it, for the love of God. Stop! _I am not a savior_!" By the end of his speech, he had collapsed onto his knees and was screaming from the weight he'd put on his not-yet-healed leg. He rolled onto his side, clutching the cast. But as people came over to him, he crawled away from them and pulled himself up by a pole. "Stay away from me," he hissed at his father, the nurse and Hermione and then screamed at everyone. "Stay away from me!" Grabbing a stout stick off the muddy ground he slowly limped back into the infirmary tent, ignoring all offers of help. Before he went into it, he turned around and said to the people following him, "None of you can help me. None. I can't be helped and I won't let you get dragged down with me."

For a week and a half he sat in his tent and ignored everyone, refusing food and company. When he finally came out, his cast was gone—much to Madame Pomfrey's dismay he had removed it himself—and though he had a slight limp, otherwise he was in almost complete health. Four days after he had resumed gruffly speaking to people, the excavation on the ruined parts of the castle started and a day after that, the students were let out from Gryffindor tower into the sunlight.

Blaise stood in the back of the crowd against a tree as the student streamed out of the tower. Hermione was anxiously standing about fifteen feet away from him, waiting for him to come over to her, but he didn't. A figure detached itself from the crowd, ran right over to him and slammed him against the tree. Blaise let out a laugh and hugged it.

"Hannah, honestly. It's all right; you're safe now," he told the sobbing girl squeezing him tightly. Hermione watched them with pursed lips; he hadn't spoken or looked at her for nearly a week and a half.

"Blaise, I'm so glad you're all right!" Hannah said, wiping her streaming eyes. "I was so worried in that tower and when the castle collapsed I thought you must have been crushed!"

"I almost was, but I got to...er, safety, just in time," Blaise told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, you probably haven't eaten in days, have you?" She nodded. "Then come with me and I'll get you something to eat and we'll talk."

As they started towards the food tent, Blaise glanced back behind him but Hermione had rushed off in the opposite direction. Once they had gotten to the food tent, Blaise sat Hannah down at a table and went to get them some food.

A few minutes later he returned and handed her a tray before sitting down opposite her, starting to eat. "So, how was it after the Order left?"

Hannah drank some of the pumpkin juice down before answering. "Everyone was scared," she said. "Me, especially. I was, well, I was worried about you." She blushed. "I thought you might get hurt, fighting your sister. I remembered her from the lectures last fall. She was very frightening then; I can't imagine what it was like to fight her. But mostly we kept quiet so no one would realize where we were. The ones who couldn't help making noise we put up in the highest dormitory where no one would be able to hear them from the main castle. Besides that? We just sat and ate and tried to stay calm. When the food started to go low, I stopped eating most of what I was given and gave it to the younger kids. I figured they needed it more that I did."

Blaise smiled and took a bite of chicken. "Sounds much better than what happened to me."

Hannah gave him a concerned look. "What did happen?"

"Lilithe found us and we fought. Long story very, very short, I ended up killing her by absorbing her power." Blaise poked the green mash on his plate with his fork. "What is that? I can't tell."

Hannah reached out and touched his arm. "There's something you're not telling anyone, is there?" Blaise avoided her gaze. "Blaise. I don't know you well, but I can read people a bit. You aren't telling people something. Why?"

"I don't want to worry anyone," he said.

"But how can we help you get better unless you tell us?" Hannah asked, leaning across to him.

"Maybe I don't want your help," he responded harshly, pulling his arm away and standing up. "Maybe I don't want anyone's help."

Hannah frowned and walked over to him. "Yes, you do. I know you do. Everyone wants help when they're overwhelmed. Blaise, we have to: we're human." She put her hand on his shoulder and, turning him around, leaned her head under his hanging hair to look up into his eyes. "Let me help you," she whispered.

His pupils were dilated and his expression sharpened for a moment before his face fell slack and he answered in a tone so soft she barely heard it, "Please. Help me."

"Blaise?" Hannah and Blaise's heads whipped around to see Ginny standing there, frowning. "Where's Hermione?"

Blaise's eyes darkened. "How should I know? I'm not her keeper."

Ginny's eyes flashed angrily. "No, but you are her _boyfriend._ Or have you forgotten that?"

Blaise turned and started to limp away. "Things change, Ginny. Be sure to tell Hermione that."

"I will, Blaise Zabini!" Ginny shouted after Blaise and Hannah. "Just you remember that!"

"Thanks, I will," he retorted before ducking out of the food tent.

Even with his slight limp, Blaise walked faster than Hannah could keep up with and she barely managed to see him disappear behind the wall of a garden right behind the greenhouses. A minute later, she caught up with him and saw him stripping his shoes and socks off and rolling up his pants legs.

"Blaise, it's too cold for wading," Hannah said.

Blaise flashed a grin at her. "Only if you don't use wands." He cast a Heating Charm over the fountain and started wading through. "Mmm... Nice and warm. C'mon in, Hannah, it won't hurt!"

Hannah stood by the pool and stared at him walking around for a few minutes. "You really don't want to talk about it, do you?"

Blaise's grin faded. "No, I don't."

"Why not? It can't be too terrible."

"It is."

Hannah walked over to him. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?" She reached out and touched his shoulder; he moved into her hand, craning his head. "I know you and Hermione were —are— close. I don't want to be the cause of a break up."

Blaise sighed and climbed out of the fountain, shaking his feet dry and unrolling his pants. "Hermione and I... It's complicated." He sat down on the bench closest to him.

"You love her." It wasn't a question.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Then why do you seem so interested in me?" Hannah blushed as she said this.

Blaise cocked his head at her and smiled. "Don't be embarrassed, Hannah; if anyone's done anything wrong, it's me. I have —had— a girlfriend, and now I feel this...protectiveness...towards you. I want to guard you. I look at you and you seem so innocent, so sweet. Hermione isn't like that; she's learned to protect herself, to keep lookout for herself and for Harry and Ron, too. You don't have that feeling and I want to wrap my arms around you and just hold you forever to keep you safe." He reached up with one hand and touched her cheek softly.

"I'm- I'm not pretty," she said, faltering and flinching away at his touch a bit.

His eyes were a deep blue color and his hair had fallen into his eyes as he gazed intently at her. "Don't ever say that. Don't let anyone else say it, either. You're not glamorous, but men don't want glamorous when they get down to it. They want something that shines from the inside. You've got that. It's a little light that you barely notice unless you look." He brushed her hair back from her face and his face inched nearer to hers.

"Does Hermione?" Hannah whispered.

"Does Hermione what?" She could feel his hot breath on her lips.

"Does she have that light? Like you said I have?"

A smile curled over Blaise's lips. "Hermione's different. She's more of the type who thrusts her qualities in your face and then is offended when you don't —or pretend not to— notice. It's why she and Weasley would have never worked out—he's too obtuse to notice everything she does."

"And you do?"

"Only when I want to." He tilted his head a bit more and looked more deeply into her eyes. "And you, you're more than her in some ways and in others she's more than you. You've got human caring; you care for people, no matter what. I like that. And your eyes are so expressive, so beautiful." She could feel his lips brushing hers ever so lightly and she sighed in anticipation. "You are you. And you are beautiful." He closed the distance and kissed her softly, like he was holding a delicate flower and was afraid of breaking it.

A few moments later, he pulled back from her and smiled. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Hannah shook her head mutely. "No. No, it wasn't." A grin spread across her face. "You're just trying to distract me, aren't you? Tell me. Tell me now, while you're happy."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "All right, then. When I absorbed my sister's power, I absorbed her memories and some of her qualities." He shook his head. "It was stupid of me to not realize that when you absorb someone's life source, you are _going_ to absorb some of their traits, not to mention their memories." His eyes flicked behind her for a second.

"What did you see?" she whispered.

He looked at her bleakly. "They knew, the Death Eaters. They knew who I was. But only some of them knew that I was working with Dumbledore. All the rest thought I could be turned. I've been asking around for the past few days and I found out all the ones who knew I was working with Dumbledore escaped. They'll be after my blood: one of the clearest things Voldemort told them that _she_ was present for was that if _she_ died, I was surely responsible and therefore a dead man."

Hannah sat there in silence. "But then- How- Are you going to stay here, out of sight?"

Blaise smiled reassuringly. "I'll be fine. I'll tell you more later. It's getting dark, so you should head back to the camp and get your sleeping assignments from McGonagall." Hannah nodded and left. Blaise waited for a few moments. "You can come out now," he called to the shrubbery surrounding the fountain. "I knew you were there."

Hermione stepped out from behind a plant. "Then why the show?" she asked coldly. "Why would you tell her you loved me and then kiss her? Are you just that sick?"

Blaise laughed. "Think about it: I've just absorbed some of my sick, twisted sister's traits and dangled this girl on a chain. No, those things couldn't possibly be connected, I don't think. What do you think?"

Hermione glared at him. "You love me, and you're being just as cruel to me as you were to her."

"Equal treatment, love. It's what I'm all about."

"Don't be an ass."

"Born to it."

She sighed and sat down on the stone bench opposite to him. "I know you're you again. I know you have those traits under control; you're a control freak, you have to. I also know that the only time you wouldn't have had them under control is when you were under that rubble and searching for your sister's body. What really happened?"

"It was her _life source_, Hermione," Blaise whispered. "From her _life_. There's a certain amount of spirit attached to it, a certain amount of soul. When I was under that rubble, before I found her body, the remnant of her was controlling me. She pushed my consciousness back and took control of my body so that she would be able to get a proper burial, or at least one outside of a destroyed corridor. She found her body and she left me my body. I'll never be the same. There are...traces...of her in me. Not enough to let them control me, but some of her characteristics are blended with mine. And I don't know what they are yet."

"Cruelty," Hermione said.

"Yes. Why do you think I didn't want to be hailed as 'The Other Savior Of Wizardkind'? I'm not. I'm just a boy who murdered his sister and got away with it."

Hermione stood up, marched over to him and slapped him across the face. "Don't you _ever_ say that. _Ever_. You didn't murder anyone. You performed an execution that was justified. When the evidence runs in front of the Ministry, they will prove you innocent of all charges—if indeed they deem it worthy of charges." She glanced at his neck. "Where's your charm?"

Blaise held up his hand and the last rays of the sun flashed off of a ring. "Dad brought by a ring the other day and gave it to me. More useful, and since it's not made of stone it will hold the magic longer and I'll be able to renew it myself."

Hermione nodded. "Oh. Good." All of a sudden her face went slack and then a smile bloomed. "You love me?"

Blaise grinned and pulled her down to the bench. "Could there be a doubt?"

Hermione's smile stretched even further. "Until now."

Blaise pulled her over closer until she was next to him. "That," he said simply, his nose brushing against hers, "was stupid."

* * *

They went back to the camp a few hours later and ducked into the food tent as dinner was served. Blaise saw Hannah across the room and she smiled sadly at him and nodded. He nodded back, smiling also.

"Blaise," Hermione said suddenly as they were waiting to be served, "how did you know I loved you?"

Blaise took his plate from the server and thanked him. "I just knew," he told her, cutting into his meat.

"You mean you assumed?"

Blaise glanced blandly at her. "Hermione, in case you don't remember, I am a mind reader. When I took my necklace off a few weeks ago, I could hear you loudest of all, worrying about me."

"And I was thinking that I loved you?"

Blaise tilted his head and thought for a moment. "No, but it was the feeling coming off the thought. Like it was drenched in worry, but when it got to my name it felt sort of marinated in love. Kind of fuzzy. It made my stomach flip."

Hermione smiled. "That's how I always hoped it would feel like. I'm glad it does." Blaise grinned and dug into his meat. "Blaise?"

"Yes?"

"Did you really mean what you said to Hannah?"

He gave her a cautious glance. "Mean what?"

"That you're attracted to her as well as me."

Blaise winced. "Honestly?" Hermione nodded. "Yes, I did. I _love_ you, Hermione. But I can't deny my feelings for Hannah."

Hermione's mouth dropped. "But you just got to know her!"

He nodded. "But one of the other loudest thinkers in that castle was Hannah, wishing me to safety. When I was trapped under the rubble, she was the main reason I was able to crawl out. Without the power her thoughts gave me, I wouldn't have made it out of there alive."

Hermione bristled visibly. "And I wasn't thinking loud enough for you while I was burying people?"

"No, you weren't," Blaise retorted. "You were thinking about the people you were burying. I was in a state that if I didn't get someone thinking specifically about me, and thinking strongly, I wasn't going to make it. Hannah saved my life, Hermione."

"So what does that make me?" Hermione whispered, blinking back tears.

Blaise looked taken aback. "What do you mean? That doesn't change _anything._ You and I are fine. I love _you_, Hermione. Not Hannah. In fact, I-"

"Is this seat taken?" They looked up to see a paler, drawn-looking Draco Malfoy.

"Sit, Draco, please," Blaise said, scooting over. Draco ignored him, looking instead at Hermione.

"Is it?" he asked softly.

Hermione blinked rapidly before answering, "Yes. Go ahead, sit. You look like you haven't sat for ages."

Draco smiled a bit. "No, I haven't. Thanks." He sat down beside Hermione. "So Blaise, how is Hannah?" An unfamiliar glint was in Draco's eyes. Blaise frowned. "I hear you rescued her. How noble and self-sacrificing."

"Well, you know me," Blaise said slowly, narrowing his eyes at Draco. "Always trying something new."

"Barely anyone knows you anymore," Draco observed, politely declining the soup offered to him by the server.

"I could say the same of you, too." Blaise took the soup.

"Then I suppose we've both changed. Hermione, how are you?" Draco turned to Hermione and they both ignored Blaise for the rest of the night.

Blaise sat sullenly with his dinner, listening to Draco and Hermione talking while they ate until finally he got up and left. He went outside and stalked around for a while, heading towards the lake after a while.

He saw Harry standing by a tree, eating his soup and staring at the water. He turned around to leave, but Harry called him over. "C'mon over, Blaise. We need to talk."

They sat down together, under the tree, and Harry finished the soup and set it aside. "So you and Hermione have been arguing?"

"Yeah." Blaise picked up a rock and threw it at the lake. "And when did she and Draco get so close?"

Harry laughed. "They aren't, really. While you weren't talking to anyone, she needed someone to argue with. Ron's been spending all his time with Luna, so she couldn't with him, and she knew that I'm too busy, mostly, to stop and argue about minutiae with her. So she went over to Draco one day and started in on him about his usage of the hot water. Since then, they've sat with each other almost every meal, talking or arguing. I never thought I'd be grateful to Malfoy, but I am."

Blaise leaned against the tree. "It's just that I feel overwhelmed." He told Harry about parts of Lilithe being inside him and Harry listened patiently.

"I know how you feel," Harry said. "I feel sometimes that, now Voldemort's gone. What's my purpose-"

"It's not that," Blaise interrupted. "With some of her memories, I found out that some Death Eaters knew what I was; knew that if she failed, I would be responsible. Voldemort ordered them to kill me if she failed. And then, last week, I was asking around about the battle, about who escaped—I'm sure you heard about that." Harry nodded. "And all of the Death Eaters who escaped—_every single one_—knew about me. This war isn't over for me yet. I'm still in danger, Harry. Not as much as you were, but these men have nothing to live for anyway, so why shouldn't they risk it all to come after me? And what better way to try and hurt me than killing those I love?" Blaise gripped a handful of his robes and gritted his teeth. "They'd kill Hermione; I know they would."

Harry nodded. "I understand." He turned to look at Blaise. "What are you going to do?"

Blaise stared across the lake, blinking slowly. "I don't know yet."

"Can I give you some advice?"

Blaise looked at him. "Go ahead."

"I wish I had some to give to you, then," Harry said. They both laughed for a moment at that and Harry went on, "It's in times like now that I wish both Voldemort and I had died and Dumbledore survived. The people who are left need him more than they need me. The need someone to govern them fairly, not The Boy Who Lived."

"Hermione needs someone who can handle her," Blaise mused, "not a mind reading boy who is dead and doesn't know it yet."

Harry laughed again. "I could say the same for Ginny," he responded, "but she would never let me go."

They sat there for a while and Blaise listened as Harry outlined his plans for the Wizarding World, what he wanted to do for wizardkind so that they could be more prepared if anyone else like Voldemort showed up in the future.

Blaise spent the entire next day by the lake, staring out at it. Around four o'clock, Hermione came out and sat with him.

"I'm sorry about last night," she said.

"It's okay."

"I didn't understand. I know you love me, it just hurts to know you feel for someone else, too." She touched his arm tentatively.

He pulled her over to him and waited until she had settled her head on his should before he spoke. "I never want to have to lie to you. And likelihood is that Hannah will find someone and my feelings for her will fade. But I don't think I'll ever stop loving you." He squeezer her shoulders. "You remember that: I won't _ever_ stop loving you."

"I won't forget." She looked up at him and smiled. "I have to go now, so I'll see you at dinner, all right?"

"Okay." He smiled as he watched her go.

As he sat there for the next three hours until dinner, he realized what he had to do.

Three days later, he was in his tent packing two of his travel bags when Hermione came in.

"I brought you some- What's this?" Her brow furrowed as she looked around the tent, seeing nothing, as everything was packed up. "Are you going somewhere?"

Blaise stopped and turned to her. The hands that were holding the tray she had brought for him were shaking madly. "Hermione, calm down," he started.

The tray dropped from her hands, spraying stew and crumbs everywhere. "You're leaving, aren't you!" He didn't answer her. "Tell me! Say you aren't, say you're staying here! Answer me!"

"I never want to lie to you," he said quietly to her. Her eyes filled up with tears.

"Why?" she asked. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Hermione, it's complicated-"

"The hell it is! You're leaving me! It's very simple!" she exclaimed. "You don't love me and everything you've said these past few days was complete bullshit!" A few tears fell down her cheeks.

"Don't cry, darling," he crooned, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Don't."

Hermione flinched away from his touch. "Explain to me Blaise. Explain how you can tell me you love me and then leave."

"Hermione, I _can't_! You would never understand! Don't make me hurt you," Blaise pleaded, trying to get her to look at her.

"Then _make_ me understand!" she shouted in his face. He stepped away and his mouth fell open in a mix of rage and shock.

"Hermione, you can't understand," Blaise said, pacing a few steps. "Those Death Eaters that escaped—they want my head on a platter! I'm a dead man walking. I can't stay here."

"We'll get them," Hermione promised desperately. "Blaise, I _need_ you. Harry needs you." She blinked back anger and tears and continued, "Hannah needs you. _Everyone_ needs you. Stay. Please." He turned around to look into her pleading, tear-filled eyes. "Please," she whispered. "Stay. For me."

He stood still for a moment and she could see him quivering, before he walked the few steps back to her and pulled her in his arms, kissing her until they were both almost suffocated. "I can't, Hermione," he told her gently, letting her go and picking up his duffel bag that sat behind him, packed with everything that he needed to survive on his own. "I can't. I'm sorry."

Blaise walked to the door and stopped as Hermione cried out, "Please, Blaise! Please!"

"Goodbye, Hermione," he said softly. "Goodbye."

"No! Blaise, stay!" Hermione pleaded, tugging on his arm. "Please, don't leave me!"

"I can't promise that," he whispered, looking down at her, a faint smile hiding behind his grim face. "Not yet."

Then he walked out the door and she watched him Disapparate as he reached the gate. He didn't even wave goodbye, she thought numbly as she stood in the doorway to Hogwarts castle, left alone without even a final wave.

But, she thought, new hope dawning on her, he had said that he wouldn't be gone forever. That hope sparked more and she found that, as long as she could believe that, she could go on.

He wouldn't be gone forever.

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, thanks to my beta, James.

And thanks to all of you who reviewed. You brightened my day when I got that email notification! I couldn't have made it through this fic without you all. Thanks so much!

The sequel should be out sometime in the next couple months.


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